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"THERE   WAS   NO    ONE   SO    EFFECTIVE   AS   THE   AUSTRIAN 
OFFICERS " 


THEIR 

SILVER  WEDDING 
JOURNEY 


By 

W.  D.  HOWELLS 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  HAZARD  OF  NEW  FORTUNES' 
"THE  LANDLORD  AT  LION'S  HEAD"  ETC. 


ILL  US  TRA  TED 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
Vol.  I. 


Copyright,  1899,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS 


All  rights  reserved 


T341 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


JT  FULL -PAGE 

j|       "  There  Was  No  One  so  Effective  as  PAGE 

"^  the  Atisirian  Officers "  .     .     .     .     Frontispiece 

^       "  '  We  coiM  call  it  our  Silver  Wedding  Journey'"  9 

"  The  Luxury  of  the  Music-room" 15 

The  Steamer  Leaving  the    Wharf 33 

^      "  Their  Steamer  Chairs  in  the  Best  Places"      .  41 

en      "  Seats  in  the  Dining-saloon  " 47 

"Long  Island   Was  Now  a  Low   Yellow  Line"  59 
•^     "  The  Spaciot(s  Solititde  of  the  Ocean  Was  Be- 

o.           ginning"     .                         63 

c/5     "  Broadway   *    *   *   the  Irregular    Walls  of  the 

Canyon " 71 

A  State-room  Interior 75 

A  Corridor  between  State-rooms 81 

"  Without  the  Sign  of  Any  Life  Beyond  Her  "  105 
„     "  Stood  in  the   Way  of  those  Walking  Up  and 

•£             Down" 109 

K     "  There  was  Every  Reason   to  Relieve  that  they 

Were  Holding  Each  Other's  Hand"  .     .     .  115 

A  Deck  Steward 119 

Plymouth  Harbor 139 

"  They  Owned  to  Each   Other  that  they  Hated 

to  have  the    Voyage  Over" 153 

iii 


275348 


PAGE 

A  Dutch  Lugger 161 

A   Woman-and-dog  Team 181 

Hamburg  Rathhaus 189 

"He  Bubbled  Over  with  Smiling  Regrets"     .     .  195 

A  Street  in  Hamburg 199 

German  Officers 207 

Siegesdenkmal 213 

"  The  Shattered  Fragments  of  the  Brandy -flask"  217 

The  Rathhaus 221 

The  University  and  the  Mende  Fountain  .     .     .  229 

New  Theatre 239 

" '  You  can't  go  and  drink  these  waters  hit  or 

miss'" 251 

The  Bridge  at  the  End  of  the  Colonnade  .     .     .  269 

Caff  in  Stadtpark 273 

Sprit  del  Spring 277 

Kaiserbad 287 

The  Hirschensprung 303 

The  English  Church 309 

A    Wayside  Shrine 329 

The   Tlieatre 343 

Alte    Wiese 353 

"  He  Followed  with  Hts  Eyes  the  Manoeuvre  "  .  369 

The  Market-place 379 

"  '  Didn't  you  have  a  nice  time  yesterday,  papa  ?'  "  391 

Stephanie  Warte 397 


HEAD-PIECES 

The  Narrows I 

Steamer  at  Dock .               .  7 

Promenade  Deck .  14 

Promenade  Deck in 

iv 


PAGE 

Stuyvesant  Square 27 

Steamer-shed  and  Crowd 30 

Sky-scrapers 45 

Pilot-boat 58 

Union  Square 68 

Second-cabin  Passengers 84 

Steerage  Passengers  in  Groups 90 

Close.  Quarters 97 

Steamer  in  Fog 103 

The  Smoke-room 124 

Plymouth    Tender 136 

Cherbourg  Tender      ....          .          ....  148 

View  of  Cherbourg 160 

German  Railroad  Station      .......  170 

Hamburg  Street    ......           ....  178 

German   Trolley-car 185 

Hamburg  Shipping 193 

German  Landscape        203 

Napoleon  Stone 211 

Sprudel  Springs,  Spa  Colonnade 237 

Alte    Wiese,  Carlsbad 246 

Establishment  Pitpp 258 

Muhlbrunnen 267 

Posthof  Cafe 282 

Bridge  over  the   Tepl 299 

Carlsbad 308 

Schloss  Brunen 324 

Sprudel  Colonnade 338 

Konig's    Villa 350 

Zivei  Deutsche  Monarchen  tin    Theater  Cafe      .  358 

iiurg  Ruine 365 

Felsenquelle 377 

Kaiser  Park 390 

v 


THEIR  SILVER  WEDDING  JOURNEY 


Y 


i 


'OU  need  the  rest,"  said  the  Business 
End;  "and  your  wife  wants  you  to  go, 
as  well  as  your  doctor.  Besides,  it's 
your  Sabbatical  year,  and  you  could  send  back 
a  lot  of  stuff  for  the  magazine." 

"Is  that  your  notion  of  a  Sabbatical  year?" 
asked  the  editor. 

"  No ;  I  throw  that  out  as  a  bait  to  your 
conscience.  You  needn't  write  a  line  while 
you're  gone.  I  wish  you  wouldn't,  for  your 
own  sake;  although  every  number  that  hasn't 
got  you  in  it  is  a  back  number  for  me." 

"That's  very  nice  of  you,  Fulkerson,"  said 
the  editor.  "  I  suppose  you  realize  that  it's 
nine  years  since  we  took  Every  Other  Week 
from  Dryfoos  ?" 

"  Well,  that  makes  it  all  the  more  Sabbati- 

A  I 


cal,"  said  Fulkerson.  "  The  two  extra  years 
that  you've  put  in  here,  over  and  above  the 
old  style  Sabbatical  seven,  are  just  so  much 
more  to  your  credit.  It  was  your  right  to  go, 
two  years  ago,  and  now  it's  your  duty.  Couldn't 
you  look  at  it  in  that  light  ?" 

"  I  dare  say  Mrs.  March  could,"  the  editor  as 
sented.  "  I  don't  believe  she  could  be  brought 
to  regard  it  as  a  pleasure  on  any  other  terms." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Fulkerson.  "If  you 
won't  take  a  year,  take  three  months,  and  call 
it  a  Sabbatical  summer  ;  but  go,  anyway.  You 
can  make  up  half  a  dozen  numbers  ahead,  and 
Tom,  here,  knows  your  ways  so  well  that  you 
needn't  think  about  Every  Other  Week  from 
the  time  you  start  till  the  time  you  try  to  bribe 
the  customs  inspector  when  you  get  back.  I 
can  take  a  hack  at  the  editing  myself,  if  Tom's 
inspiration  gives  out,  and  put  a  little  of  my  ad 
vertising  fire  into  the  thing."  He  laid  his  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  the  young  fellow  who  stood 
smiling  by,  and  pushed  and  shook  him  in  the 
liking  there  was  between  them.  "  Now  you 
go,  March!  Mrs.  Fulkerson  feels  just  as  I  do 
about  it  ;  we  had  our  outing  last  year,  and  we 
want  Mrs.  March  and  you  to  have  yours.  You 
let  me  go  down  and  engage  your  passage, 
and — " 

"  No,  no  !"  the  editor  rebelled.  "  I'll  think 
about  it ;"  but  as  he  turned  to  the  work  that 
he  was  so  fond  of  and  so  weary  of,  he  tried  not 


to  think  of  the  question  again,  till  he  closed 
his  desk  in  the  afternoon,  and  started  to  walk 
home  ;  the  doctor  had  said  he  ought  to  walk, 
and  he  did  so,  though  he  longed  to  ride,  and 
looked  wistfully  at  the  passing  cars. 

He  knew  he  was  in  a  rut,  as  his  wife  often 
said  •  but  if  it  was  a  rut,  it  was  a  support  too  ; 
it  kept  him  from  wobbling.  She  always  talked 
as  if  the  flowery  fields  of  youth  lay  on  either 
side  of  the  dusty  road  he  had  been  going  so 
long,  and  he  had  but  to  step  aside  from  it,  to 
be  among  the  butterflies  and  buttercups  again  ; 
he  sometimes  indulged  this  illusion,  himself, 
in  a  certain  ironical  spirit  which  mocked  while 
it  caressed  the  notion.  They  had  a  tacit  agree 
ment  that  their  youth,  if  they  were  ever  to  find 
it  again,  was  to  be  looked  for  in  Europe,  where 
they  met  when  they  were  young,  and  they  had 
never  been  quite  without  the  hope  of  going 
back  there,  some  day,  for  a  long  sojourn.  They 
had  not  seen  the  time  when  they  could  do  so  ; 
they  were  dreamers,  but,  as  they  recognized, 
even  dreaming  is  not  free  from  care  ;  and  in 
his  dream  March  had  been  obliged  to  work 
pretty  steadily,  if  not  too  intensely.  He  had 
been  forced  to  forego  the  distinctly  literary 
ambition  with  which  he  had  started  in  life  be 
cause  he  had  their  common  living  to  make,  and 
he  could  not  make  it  by  writing  graceful  verse, 
or  even  graceful  prose.  He  had  been  many 
years  in  a  sufficiently  distasteful  business,  and 
3 


he  had  lost  any  thought  of  leaving  it  when  it 
left  him,  perhaps  because  his  hold  on  it  had 
always  been  rather  lax,  and  he  had  not  been 
able  to  conceal  that  he  disliked  it.  At  any  rate, 
he  was  supplanted  in  his  insurance  agency  at 
Boston  by  a  subordinate  in  his  office,  and 
though  he  was  at  the  same  time  offered  a  place 
of  nominal  credit  in  the  employ  of  the  com 
pany,  he  was  able  to  decline  it  in  grace  of  a 
chance  which  united  the  charm  of  congenial 
work  with  the  solid  advantage  of  a  better  sal 
ary  than  he  had  been  getting  for  work  he 
hated.  It  was  an  incredible  chance,  but  it  was 
rendered  appreciably  real  by  the  necessity  it 
involved  that  they  should  leave  Boston,  where 
they  had  lived  all  their  married  life,  where  Mrs. 
March  as  well  as  their  children  was  born,  and 
where  all  their  tender  and  familiar  ties  were, 
and  come  to  New  York,  where  the  literary  en 
terprise  which  formed  his  chance  was  to  be 
founded. 

It  was  then  a  magazine  of  a  new  sort,  which 
his  business  partner  had  imagined  in  such  lei 
sure  as  the  management  of  a  newspaper  syn 
dicate  afforded  him,  and  had  always  thought 
of  getting  March  to  edit.  The  magazine  which 
is  also  a  book  has  since  been  realized  elsewhere 
on  more  or  less  prosperous  terms,  but  not  for 
any  long  period,  and  Every  Other  Week  was 
apparently  the  only  periodical  of  the  kind  con 
ditioned  for  survival.  It  was  at  first  backed 
4 


by  unlimited  capital,  and  it  had  the  instant 
favor  of  a  popular  mood,  which  has  since 
changed,  but  which  did  not  change  so  soon 
that  the  magazine  had  not  time  to  establish 
itself  in  a  wide  acceptance.  It  was  now  no 
longer  a  novelty,  it  was  no  longer  in  the  maid 
en  blush  of  its  first  success,  but  it  had  entered 
upon  its  second  youth  with  the  reasonable 
hope  of  many  years  of  prosperity  before  it. 
In  fact,  it  was  a  very  comfortable  living  for  all 
concerned,  and  the  Marches  had  the  condi 
tions,  almost  dismayingly  perfect,  in  which 
they  had  often  promised  themselves  to  go  and 
be  young  again  in  Europe,  when  they  rebelled 
at  finding  themselves  elderly  in  America.  Their 
daughter  was  married,  and  so  very  much  to 
her  mother's  mind  that  she  did  not  worry 
about  her  even  though  she  lived  so  far  away 
as  Chicago,  still  a  wild  frontier  town  to  her 
Boston  imagination  ;  and  their  son  as  soon  as 
he  left  college  had  taken  hold  on  Every  Other 
Week,  under  his  father's  instruction,  with  a  zeal 
and  intelligence  which  won  him  Fulkerson's 
praise  as  a  chip  of  the  old  block.  These  two 
liked  each  other,  and  worked  into  each  other's 
hands  as  cordially  and  aptly  as  Fulkerson  and 
March  had  ever  done.  It  amused  the  father 
to  see  his  son  offering  Fulkerson  the  same  def 
erence  which  the  Business  End  paid  to  senior 
ity  in  March  himself  ;  but,  in  fact,  Fulkerson's 
forehead  was  getting,  as  he  said,  more  intel- 
5 


lectual  every  day;  and  the  years  were  pushing 
them  all  along  together. 

Still,  March  had  kept  on  in  the  old  rut,  and 
one  day  he  fell  down  in  it.  He  had  a  long 
sickness,  and  when  he  was  well  of  it,  he  was 
so  slow  in  getting  his  grip  of  work  again  that 
he  was  sometimes  deeply  discouraged.  His 
wife  shared  his  depression,  whether  he  showed 
or  whether  he  hid  it,  and  when  the  doctor  ad 
vised  his  going  abroad,  she  abetted  the  doctor 
with  all  the  strength  of  a  woman's  hygienic 
intuitions.  March  himself  willingly  consented, 
at  first ;  but  as  soon  as  he  got  strength  for  his 
work,  he  began  to  temporize  and  to  demur. 
He  said  that  he  believed  it  would  do  him  just 
as  much  good  to  go  to  Saratoga,  where  they 
always  had  such  a  good  time,  as  to  go  to  Carls 
bad  ;  and  Mrs.  March  had  been  obliged  several 
times  to  leave  him  to  his  own  undoing  ;  she 
always  took  him  more  vigorously  in  hand  af 
terwards. 


II 


WHEN  he  got  home  from  the  Every 
Other  Week  office,  the  afternoon  of 
that  talk  with  the  Business  End,  he 
wanted  to  laugh  with  his  wife  at  Fulkerson's 
notion  of  a  Sabbatical  year.  She  did  not  think 
it  was  so  very  droll ;  she  even  urged  it  seriously 
against  him,  as  if  she  had  now  the  authority  of 
Holy  Writ  for  forcing  him  abroad  ;  she  found 
no  relish  of  absurdity  in  the  idea  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  take  this  rest  which  had  been  his  right 
before. 

He  abandoned  himself  to  a  fancy  which  had 
been  working  to  the  surface  of  his  thought. 
"We  could  call  it  our  Silver  Wedding  Jour 
ney,  and  go  round  to  all  the  old  places,  and 
see  them  in  the  reflected  light  of  the  past." 

"  Oh,  we  could /"  she  responded  passionately  ; 
and  he  had  now  the  delicate  responsibility  of 
persuading  her  that  he  was  joking. 
7 


He  could  think  of  nothing  better  than  a  re 
turn  to  Fulkerson's  absurdity.  "  It  would  be 
our  Silver  Wedding  Journey  just  as  it  would 
be  my  Sabbatical  year — a  good  deal  after  date. 
But  I  suppose  that  would  make  it  all  the  more 
silvery." 

vShe  faltered  in  her  elation.  "  Didn't  you  say 
a  Sabbatical  year  yourself?"  she  demanded. 

"  Fulkerson  said  it ;  but  it  was  a  figurative 
expression." 

"And  I  suppose  the  Silver  Wedding  Journey 
was  a  figurative  expression  too  !" 

"  It  was  a  notion  that  tempted  me  ;  I  thought 
you  would  enjoy  it.  Don't  you  suppose  I  should 
be  glad  too,  if  we  could  go  over,  and  find  our 
selves  just  as  we  were  when  we  first  met 
there?" 

"  No  ;  I  don't  believe  now  that  you  care  any 
thing  about  it." 

"Well,  it  couldn't  be  done,  anyway  ;  so  that 
doesn't  matter." 

"It  could  be  done,  if  you  were  a  mind  to 
think  so.  And  it  would  be  the  greatest  inspi 
ration  to  you.  You  are  always  longing  for  some 
chance  to  do  original  work,  to  get  away  from 
your  editing,  but  you've  let  the  time  slip  by 
without  really  trying  to  do  anything  ;  I  don't 
call  those  little  studies  of  yours  in  the  magazine 
anything  ;  and  now  you  won't  take  the  chance 
that's  almost  forcing  itself  upon  you.  You 
could  write  an  original  book  of  the  nicest 
8 


"'WE   COULD  CALL   IT   OUR    SILVER  WEDDING  JOURNEY 


kind  ;  mix  up  travel  and  fiction  ;  get  some 
love  in." 

"Oh,  that's  the  stalest  kind  of  thing  !" 

"  Well,  but  you  could  see  it  from  a  perfectly 
new  point  of  view.  You  could  look  at  it  as  a 
sort  of  dispassionate  witness,  and  treat  it  hu 
morously —  of  course  it  is  ridiculous  —  and  do 
something  entirely  fresh." 

"It  wouldn't  work.  It  would  be  carrying 
water  on  both  shoulders.  The  fiction  would 
kill  the  travel,  the  travel  would  kill  the  fiction; 
the  love  and  the  humor  wouldn't  mingle  any 
more  than  oil  and  vinegar." 

"  Well,  and  what  is  better  than  a  salad  ?" 

"But  this  would  be  all  salad-dressing,  and 
nothing  to  put  it  on."  She  was  silent,  and  he 
yielded  to  another  fancy.  "  We  might  imagine 
coming  upon  our  former  selves  over  there,  and 
travelling  round  with  them — a  wedding  jour 
ney  en  par  tie  carre'e." 

"  Something  like  that.  I  call  it  a  very  poeti 
cal  idea,"  she  said  with  a  sort  of  provisionality, 
as  if  distrusting  another  ambush. 

"  It  isn't  so  bad,"  he  admitted.  "  How  young 
we  were,  in  those  days  !" 

"  Too  young  to  know  what  a  good  time  we 
were  having,"  she  said,  relaxing  her  doubt  for 
the  retrospect.  "  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  really  saw 
Europe,  then  ;  I  was  too  inexperienced,  too 
ignorant,  too  simple.  I  should  like  to  go,  just 
to  make  sure  that  I  had  been."  He  was  smil- 


ing  again  in  the  way  he  had  when  anything 
occurred  to  him  that  amused  him,  and  she 
demanded,  "What  is  it?" 

"  Nothing.  I  was  wishing  we  could  go  in  the 
consciousness  of  people  who  actually  hadn't 
been  before— carry  them  all  through  Europe 
and  let  them  see  it  in  the  old,  simple-hearted 
American  way." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  You  couldn't!  They've 
all  been  !" 

"All  but  about  sixty  or  seventy  millions," 
said  March. 

"Well,  those  are  just  the  millions  you  don't 
know,  and  couldn't  imagine." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that." 

"And  even  if  you  could  imagine  them,  you 
couldn't  make  them  interesting.  All  the  inter 
esting  ones  have  been,  anyway." 

"  Some  of  the  uninteresting  ones  too.  I  used 
to  meet  some  of  that  sort  over  there.  I  believe 
I  would  rather  chance  it  for  my  pleasure  with 
those  that  hadn't  been." 

"Then  why  not  do  it  ?  I  know  you  could 
get  something  out  of  it." 

"It  might  be  a  good  thing,"  he  mused,  "to 
take  a  couple  who  had  passed  their  whole  life 
here  in  New  York,  too  poor  and  too  busy  ever 
o  go,  and  had  a  perfect  famine  for  Europe  all 
the  time.  I  could  have  them  spend  their  Sun 
day  afternoons  going  aboard  the  different  boats, 
and  looking  up  their  accommodations.  I  could 
12 


have  them  sail,  in  imagination,  and  discover 
an  imaginary  Europe,  and  give  their  grotesque 
misconceptions  of  it  from  travels  and  novels 
against  a  background  of  purely  American  ex 
perience.  We  needn't  go  abroad  to  manage 
that.  I  think  it  would  be  rather  nice." 

"  I  don't  think  it  would  be  nice  in  the  least," 
said  Mrs.  March,  "and  if  you  don't  want  to  talk 
seriously,  I  would  rather  not  talk  at  all." 

"  Well,  then,  let  us  talk  about  our  Silver  Wed 
ding  Journey." 

"  I  see.  You  merely  want  to  tease,  and  I  am 
not  in  the  humor  for  it." 

She  said  this  in  a  great  many  different  ways, 
and  then  she  was  really  silent.  He  perceived 
that  she  was  hurt ;  and  he  tried  to  win  her 
back  to  good -humor.  He  asked  her  if  she 
would  not  like  to  go  over  to  Hoboken  and 
look  at  one  of  the  Hanseatic  League  steam 
ers,  some  day  ;  and  she  refused.  When  he  sent 
the  next  day  and  got  a  permit  to  see  the  boat, 
she  consented  to  go. 


Ill 


HE  was  one  of  those  men  who  live  from 
the  inside  outward  ;  he  often  took  a 
hint  for  his  actions  from  his  fancies  ; 
and  now  because  he  had  fancied  some  people 
going  to  look  at  steamers  on  Sundays,  he  chose 
the  next  Sunday  himself  for  their  visit  to  the 
Hanseatic  boat  at  Hoboken.  To  be  sure  it  was 
a  leisure  day  with  him,  but  he  might  have  taken 
the  afternoon  of  any  other  day,  for  that  matter, 
and  it  was  really  that  invisible  thread  of  associ 
ation  which  drew  him. 

The  Colmannia  had  been  in  long  enough  to 
have  made  her  toilet  for  the  outward  voyage, 
and  was  looking  her  best.  She  was  tipped  and 
edged  with  shining  brass,  without  and  within, 
and  was  red-carpeted  and  white-painted  as  only 
a  ship  knows  how  to  be.  A  little  uniformed 
steward  ran  before  the  visitors,  and  showed 
them  through  the  dim  white  corridors  into 


typical  state  -  rooms  on  the  different  decks  ; 
and  then  let  them  verify  their  first  impression 
of  the  grandeur  of  the  dining-saloon,  and  the 
luxury  of  the  ladies'  parlor  and  music-room. 
March  made  his  wife  observe  that  the  tables 
and  sofas  and  easy- chairs,  which  seemed  so 
carelessly  scattered  about,  were  all  suggestively 
screwed  fast  to  the  floor  against  rough  weather  ; 
and  he  amused  himself  with  the  heavy  German 
browns  and  greens  and  coppers  of  the  decora 
tions,  which  he  said  must  have  been  studied  in 
color  from  sausage,  beer,  and  spinach,  to  the 
effect  of  those  large  march-panes  in  the  roof. 
She  laughed  with  him  at  the  tastelessness  of 
the  race  which  they  were  destined  to  marvel  at 
more  and  more  ;  but  she  made  him  own  that 
the  stewardesses  whom  they  saw  were  charm 
ingly  like  serving  -  maids  in  the  Fliegendc 
Blatter ;  when  they  went  ashore  she  chal 
lenged  his  silence  for  some  assent  to  her 
own  conclusion  that  the  Colmannia  was  per 
fect. 

"  She  has  only  one  fault,"  he  assented.  "  She's 
a  ship." 

"Yes,"  said  his  wife,  "  and  I  shall  want  to  look 
at  the  Norumbia  before  I  decide." 

Then  he  saw  that  it  was  only  a  question  which 
steamer  they  should  take,  and  not  whether  they 
should  take  any.  He  explained,  at  first  gently 
and  afterwards  savagely,  that  their  visit  to  the 
Colmannia  was  quite  enough  for  him,  and  that 
B  17 


the  vessel  was  not  built  that  he  would  be  will 
ing  to  cross  the  Atlantic  in. 

When  a  man  has  gone  so  far  as  that  he  has 
committed  himself  to  the  opposite  course  in 
almost  so  many  words ;  and  March  was  neither 
surprised  nor  abashed  when  he  discovered  him 
self,  before  they  reached  home,  offering  his 
wife  many  reasons  why  they  should  go  to  Eu 
rope.  She  answered  to  all,  No,  he  had  made 
her  realize  the  horror  of  it  so  much  that  she 
was  glad  to  give  it  up.  She  gave  it  up,  with 
the  best  feeling  ;  all  that  she  would  ask  of  him 
was  that  he  should  never  mention  Europe  to 
her  again.  She  could  imagine  how  much  he 
disliked  to  go,  if  such  a  ship  as  the  Colmannia 
did  not  make  him  want  to  go. 

At  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  knew  that  he 
had  not  used  her  very  well.  He  had  kindled 
her  fancy  with  those  notions  of  a  Sabbatical 
year  and  a  Silver  Wedding  Journey,  and  when 
she  was  willing  to  renounce  both  he  had  per 
sisted  in  taking  her  to  see  the  ship,  only  to  tell 
her  afterwards  that  he  would  not  go  abroad  on 
any  account.  It  was  by  a  psychological  juggle 
which  some  men  will  understand  that  he  al 
lowed  himself  the  next  day  to  get  the  sailings 
of  the  Norumbia  from  the  steamship  office  ;  he 
also  got  a  plan  of  the  ship  showing  the  most 
available  state-rooms,  so  that  they  might  be 
able  to  choose  between  her  and  the  Colmannia 
from  all  the  facts. 

18 


IV 


FROM  this  time  their  decision  to  go  was 
none  the  less  explicit  because  so  perfectly 
tacit. 

They  began  to  amass  maps  and  guides.  She 
got  a  Baedeker  for  Austria  and  he  got  a  Brad- 
shaw  for  the  continent,  which  was  never  of  the 
least  use  there,  but  was  for  the  present  a  mine 
of  unavailable  information.  He  got  a  phrase- 
book,  too,  and  tried  to  rub  up  his  German. 
He  used  to  read  German,  when  he  was  a  boy, 
with  a  young  enthusiasm  for  its  romantic 
poetry,  and  now,  for  the  sake  of  Schiller  and 
Uhland  and  Heine,  he  held  imaginary  con 
versations  with  a  barber,  a  bootmaker,  and 
a  banker,  and  tried  to  taste  the  joy  which  he 
had  not  known  in  the  language  of  those  poets 
for  a  whole  generation.  He  perceived,  of  course, 
that  unless  the  barber,  the  bootmaker,  and 
the  banker  answered  him  in  terms  which  the 
19 


author  of  the  phrase-book  directed  them  to 
use,  he  should  not  get  on  with  them  beyond 
his  first  question  ;  but  he  did  not  allow  this 
to  spoil  his  pleasure  in  it.  In  fact,  it  was  with 
a  tender  emotion  that  he  realized  how  little 
the  world,  which  had  changed  in  everything 
else  so  greatly,  had  changed  in  its  ideal  of  a 
phrase-book. 

Mrs.  March  postponed  the  study  of  her  Bae 
deker  to  the  time  and  place  for  it,  and  ad 
dressed  herself  to  the  immediate  business  of 
ascertaining  the  respective  merits  of  the  Col- 
mannia  and  Norumbia.  She  carried  on  her  re 
searches  solely  among  persons  of  her  own  sex  ; 
its  experiences  were  alone  of  that  positive 
character  which  brings  conviction,  and  she 
valued  them  equally  at  first  or  second  hand. 
She  heard  of  ladies  who  would  not  cross  in 
any  boat  but  the  Colntannia,  and  who  waited 
for  months  to  get  a  room  on  her  ;  she  talked 
with  ladies  who  said  that  nothing  would  induce 
them  to  cross  in  her.  There  were  ladies  who 
said  she  had  twice  the  motion  that  the  Norum 
bia  had,  and  the  vibration  from  her  twin  screws 
was  frightful ;  it  always  was,  on  those  twin- 
screw  boats,  and  it  did  not  affect  their  testi 
mony  with  Mrs.  March  that  the  Norumbia  was 
a  twin-screw  boat  too.  It  was  repeated  to  her 
in  the  third  or  fourth  degree  of  hearsay  that 
the  discipline  on  the  Colmannia  was  as  perfect 
as  on  the  Cunarders ;  ladies  whose  friends  had 


tried  every  line  assured  her  that  the  table  of  the 
Norumbia  was  almost  as  good  as  the  table  of  the 
French  boats.  To  the  best  of  the  belief  of  lady 
witnesses  still  living  who  had  friends  on  board, 
the  Colmannia  had  once  got  aground,  and  the 
Norumbia  had  once  had  her  bridge  carried  off 
by  a  tidal  wave  ;  or  it  might  be  the  Colmannia; 
they  promised  to  ask  and  let  her  know.  Their 
lightest  word  availed  with  her  against  the  most 
solemn  assurances  of  their  husbands,  fathers, 
or  brothers,  who  might  be  all  very  well  on  land, 
but  in  navigation  were  not  to  be  trusted ;  they 
would  say  anything  from  a  reckless  and  cul 
pable  optimism.  She  obliged  March  all  the 
same  to  ask  among  them,  but  she  recognized 
their  guilty  insincerity  when  he  came  home 
saying  that  one  man  had  told  him  you  could 
have  played  croquet  on  the  deck  of  the  Col 
mannia  the  whole  way  over  when  he  crossed, 
and  another  that  he  never  saw  the  racks  on  in 
three  passages  he  had  made  in  the  Norumbia. 

The  weight  of  evidence  was,  he  thought,  in 
favor  of  the  Norumbia,  but  when  they  went 
another  Sunday  to  Hoboken,  and  saw  the  ship, 
Mrs.  March  liked  her  so  much  less  than  the 
Colmannia  that  she  could  hardly  wait  for  Mon 
day  to  come  ;  she  felt  sure  all  the  good  rooms 
on  the  Colmannia  would  be  gone  before  they 
could  engage  one. 

From  a  consensus  of  the  nerves  of  all  the 
ladies  left  in  town  so  late  in  the  season,  she 
21 


knew  that  the  only  place  on  any  steamer  where 
your  room  ought  to  be  was  probably  just  where 
they  could  not  get  it.  If  you  went  too  high, 
you  felt  the  rolling  terribly,  and  people  tramp 
ing  up  and  down  on  the  promenade  under  your 
window  kept  you  awake  the  whole  night ;  if  you 
went  too  low,  you  felt  the  engine  thump,  thump, 
thump  in  your  head  the  whole  way  over.  If  you 
went  too  far  forward,  you  got  the  pitching  ;  if 
you  went  aft,  on  the  kitchen  side,  you  got  the 
smell  of  the  cooking.  The  only  place,  really,  was 
just  back  of  the  dining-saloon  on  the  south  side 
of  the  ship ;  it  was  smooth  there,  and  it  was 
quiet,  and  you  had  the  sun  in  your  window  all 
the  way  over.  He  asked  her  if  he  must  take  their 
room  there  or  nowhere,  and  she  answered  that 
he  must  do  his  best,  but  that  she  would  not  be 
satisfied  with  any  other  place. 

In  his  despair  he  went  down  to  the  steamer 
office,  and  took  a  room  which  one  of  the  clerks 
said  was  the  best.  When  he  got  home,  it  ap 
peared  from  reference  to  the  ship's  plan  that 
it  was  the  very  room  his  wife  had  wanted  from 
the  beginning,  and  she  praised  him  as  if  he 
had  used  a  wisdom  beyond  his  sex  in  getting  it. 

He  was  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  unmerited 
honor  when  a  belated  lady  came  with  her  hus 
band  for  an  evening  call,  before  going  into  the 
country.  At  sight  of  the  plans  of  steamers  on 
the  Marches'  table,  she  expressed  the  greatest 
wonder  and  delight  that  they  were  going  to 

22 


Europe.  They  had  supposed  everybody  knew 
it,  by  this  time,  but  she  said  she  had  not  heard 
a  word  of  it ;  and  she  went  on  with  some  felic 
itations  which  March  found  rather  unduly  fil 
ial.  In  getting  a  little  past  the  prime  of  life 
he  did  not  like  to  be  used  with  too  great  con 
sideration  of  his  years,  and  he  did  not  think 
that  he  and  his  wife  were  so  old  that  they  need 
be  treated  as  if  they  were  going  on  a  golden 
wedding  journey,  and  heaped  with  all  sorts  of 
impertinent  prophecies  of  their  enjoying  it  so 
much  and  being  so  much  the  better  for  the 
little  outing  !  Under  his  breath,  he  confound 
ed  this  lady  for  her  impudence  ;  but  he  schooled 
himself  to  let  her  rejoice  at  their  going  on  a 
Hanseatic  boat,  because  the  Germans  were 
always  so  careful  of  you.  She  made  her  hus 
band  agree  with  her,  and  it  came  out  that  he 
had  crossed  several  times  on  both  the  Colman- 
nia  and  the  Norumbia.  He  volunteered  to  say 
that  the  Colmannia  was  a  capital  sea-boat ;  she 
did  not  have  her  nose  under  water  all  the  time  ; 
she  was  steady  as  a  rock  ;  and  the  captain  and 
the  kitchen  were  simply  out  of  sight ;  some 
people  did  call  her  unlucky. 

"  Unlucky  ?"  Mrs.  March  echoed,  faintly. 
"  Why  do  they  call  her  unlucky  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  People  will  say  any 
thing  about  any  boat.  You  know  she  broke 
her  shaft,  once,  and  once  she  got  caught  in 
the  ice." 

23 


Mrs.  March  joined  him  in  deriding  the  su 
perstition  of  people,  and  she  parted  gayly  with 
this  over-good  young  couple.  As  soon  as  they  . 
were  gone,  March  knew  that  she  would  say  : 
"  You  must  change  that  ticket,  my  dear.  We 
will  go  in  the  Norumbia" 

"  Suppose  I  can't  get  as  good  a  room  on  the 
Norumbia  ?" 

"  Then  we  must  stay." 

In  the  morning  after  a  night  so  bad  that  it 
was  worse  than  no  night  at  all,  she  said  she 
would  go  to  the  steamship's  office  with  him  and 
question  them  up  about  the  Colmannia.  The 
people  there  had  never  heard  she  was  called 
an  unlucky  boat ;  they  knew  of  nothing  disas 
trous  in  her  history.  They  were  so  frank  and 
so  full  in  their  denials,  and  so  kindly  patient 
of  Mrs.  March's  anxieties,  that  he  saw  every 
word  was  carrying  conviction  of  their  insin 
cerity  to  her.  At  the  end  she  asked  what 
rooms  were  left  on  the  Norumbia,  and  the  clerk 
whom  they  had  fallen  to  looked  through  his 
passenger  list  with  a  shaking  head.  He  was 
afraid  there  was  nothing  they  would  like. 

"  But  we  would  take  anything"  she  entreated, 
and  March  smiled  to  think  of  his  innocence  in 
supposing  for  a  moment  that  she  had  ever 
dreamed  of  not  going. 

"  We  merely  want  the  best,"  he  put  in.    "  One 
flight  up,  no  noise  or  dust,  with  sun  in  all  the 
windows,  and  a  place  for  fire  on  rainy  days." 
24 


They  must  be  used  to  a  good  deal  of  Ameri 
can  joking  which  they  do  not  understand,  in 
the  foreign  steamship  offices.  The  clerk  turned 
unsmilingly  to  one  of  his  superiors  and  asked 
him  some  question  in  German  which  March 
could  not  catch,  perhaps  because  it  formed  no 
part  of  a  conversation  with  a  barber,  a  boot 
maker,  or  a  banker.  A  brief  drama  followed, 
and  then  the  clerk  pointed  to  a  room  on  the 
plan  of  the  Norumbia  and  said  it  had  just  been 
given  up,  and  they  could  have  it  if  they  would 
decide  to  take  it  at  once. 

They  looked,  and  it  was  in  the  very  place  of 
their  room  on  the  Colmannia ;  it  was  within 
one  of  being  the  same  number.  It  was  so  provi 
dential,  if  it  was  providential  at  all,  that  they 
were  both  humbly  silent  a  moment ;  even  Mrs. 
March  was  silent.  In  this  supreme  moment 
she  would  not  prompt  her  husband  by  a  word, 
a  glance,  and  it  was  from  his  own  free  will  that 
he  said,  "  We  will  take  it." 

He  thought  it  was  his  free  will,  but  perhaps 
one's  will  is  never  free  ;  and  this  may  have 
been  an  instance  of  pure  determinism  from  all 
the  events  before  it.  No  event  that  followed 
affected  it,  though  the  day  after  they  had  taken 
their  passage  on  the  Norumbia  he  heard  that 
she  had  once  been  in  the  worst  sort  of  storm 
in  the  month  of  August.  He  felt  obliged  to 
impart  the  fact  to  his  wife,  but  she  said  that 
it  proved  nothing  for  or  against  the  ship, 
25 


and  confounded  him  more  by  her  reason  than 
by  all  her  previous  unreason.  Reason  is 
what  a  man  is  never  prepared  for  in  wom 
en  ;  perhaps  because  he  finds  it  so  seldom 
in  men. 


V 


DURING  nearly  the  whole  month  that 
now  passed  before  the  date  of  sailing 
it  seemed  to  March  that  in  some  famil 
iar  aspects  New  York  had  never  been  so  inter 
esting.  He  had  not  easily  reconciled  himself 
to  the  place  after  his  many  years  of  Boston  ; 
but  he  had  got  used  to  the  ugly  grandeur,  to 
the  noise  and  the  rush,  and  he  had  divined 
more  and  more  the  careless  good-nature  and 
friendly  indifference  of  the  vast,  sprawling,  un 
gainly  metropolis.  There  were  happy  moments 
when  he  felt  a  poetry  unintentional  and  uncon 
scious  in  it,  and  he  thought  there  was  no  point 
more  favorable  for  the  sense  of  this  than  Stuy- 
vesant  Square,  where  they  had  a  flat.  Their 
windows  looked  down  into  its  tree-tops,  and 
across  them  to  the  truncated  towers  of  St. 
George's,  and  to  the  plain  red-brick,  white- 
trimmed  front  of  the  Friends'  Me^ing-House  ; 
27 


and  at  all  hours  of  the  day  he  liked  going  into 
it.  He  came  and  went  between  his  dwelling 
and  his  office  through  the  two  places  that  form 
the  square,  and  after  dinner  his  wife  and  he 
had  a  habit  of  finding  seats  by  one  of  the  foun 
tains  in  Livingston  Place,  among  the  fathers 
and  mothers  of  the  hybrid  East  Side  chil 
dren  swarming  there  at  play.  The  elders  read 
their  English  or  Italian  or  German  or  Yiddish 
journals,  or  gossiped,  or  merely  sat  still  and 
stared  away  the  day's  fatigue  ;  while  the  little 
ones  raced  in  and  out  among  them,  crying  and 
laughing,  quarrelling  and  kissing.  Sometimes 
a  mother  darted  forward  and  caught  her  child 
from  the  brink  of  the  basin  ;  another  taught 
hers  to  walk,  holding  it  tightly  up  behind  by 
its  short  skirts  ;  another  publicly  bared  her 
breast  and  nursed  her  baby  to  sleep. 

While  they  still  dreamed,  but  never  thought, 
of  going  to  Europe,  the  Marches  often  said  how 
European  all  this  was  ;  if  these  women  had 
brought  their  knitting  or  sewing  it  would  have 
been  quite  European  ;  but  as  soon  as  they  had 
decided  to  go,  it  all  began  to  seem  poignantly 
American.  In  like  manner,  before  the  condi 
tions  of  their  exile  changed,  and  they  still  pined 
for  the  Old  World,  they  contrived  a  very  agree 
able  illusion  of  it  by  dining  now  and  then  at 
an  Austrian  restaurant  in  Union  Square  ;  but 
later,  when  they  began  to  be  homesick  for  the 
American  scenes  they  had  not  yet  left,  they 
28 


had  a  keener  retrospective  joy  in  the  strictly 
New  York  sunset  they  were  bowed  out  into. 

The  sunsets  were  uncommonly  characteristic 
that  May  in  Union  Square.  They  were  the 
color  of  the  red  stripes  in  the  American  flag, 
and  when  they  were  seen  through  the  delirious 
architecture  of  the  Broadway  side,  or  down  the 
perspective  of  the  cross-streets,  where  the  ele 
vated  trains  silhouetted  themselves  against 
their  pink,  they  imparted  a  feeling  of  pervasive 
Americanism  in  which  all  impression  of  alien 
savors  and  civilities  was  lost.  One  evening 
a  fire  flamed  up  in  Hoboken,  and  burned  for 
hours  against  the  west,  in  the  lurid  crimson 
tones  of  a  conflagration  as  memorably  and 
appealingly  native  as  the  colors  of  the  sunset. 

The  weather  for  nearly  the  whole  month  was 
of  a  mood  familiar  enough  in  our  early  sum 
mer,  and  it  was  this  which  gave  the  sunsets 
their  vitreous  pink.  A  thrilling  coolness  fol 
lowed  a  first  blaze  of  heat,  and  in  the  long  res 
pite  the  thoughts  almost  went  back  to  winter 
flannels.  But  at  last  a  hot  wave  was  tele 
graphed  from  the  West,  and  the  week  before 
the  Norumbia  sailed  was  an  anguish  of  burn 
ing  days  and  breathless  nights,  which  fused 
all  regrets  and  reluctances  in  the  hope  of  es 
cape,  and  made  the  exiles  of  two  continents 
long  for  the  sea  with  no  care  for  either  shore. 


VI 


THEIR  steamer  was  to  sail  early  ;  they 
were  up  at  dawn  because  they  had  scarce 
ly  lain  down,  and  March  crept  out  into 
the  square  for  a  last  breath  of  its  morning  air 
before  breakfast.  He  was  now  eager  to  be  gone  ; 
he  had  broken  with  habit,  and  he  wished  to  put 
all  traces  of  the  past  out  of  sight.   But  this  was 
curiously  like  all  other  early  mornings  in  his 
consciousness,  and  he  could  not  alienate  him 
self  from  the  wonted  environment.     He  stood 
talking  on  every-day  terms  of  idle  speculation 
with  the  familiar  policeman,  about  a  stray  par 
rot  in  the  top  of  one  of   the  trees,  where  it 
screamed  and  clawed  at  the  dead  branch  to 
which  it  clung.     Then  he  went  carelessly  in 
doors  again  as  if  he  were  secure  of  reading  the 
reporter's  story  of  it  in  that  next  day's  paper 
which  he  should  not  see. 
The  sense  of  an  inseverable  continuity  persist- 
So 


ed  through  the  breakfast,  which  was  tike  other 
breakfasts  in  the  place  they  would  be  leaving 
in  summer  shrouds  just  as  they  always  left  it 
at  the  end  of  June.  The  illusion  was  even 
heightened  by  the  fact  that  their  son  was  to 
be  in  the  apartment  all  summer,  and  it  would 
not  be  so  much  shut  up  as  usual.  'The  heavy 
trunks  had  been  sent  to  the  ship  by  express 
the  afternoon  before,  and  they  had  only  them 
selves  and  their  state-room  baggage  to  trans 
port  to  Hoboken  ;  they  came  down  to  a  carriage 
sent  from  a  neighboring  livery-stable,  and  ex 
changed  good  -  mornings  with  a  driver  they 
knew  by  name. 

March  had  often  fancied  it  a  chief  advantage 
of  living  in  New  York  that  you  could  drive  to 
the  steamer  and  start  for  Europe  as  if  you  were 
starting  for  Albany  ;  he  was  in  the  enjoyment 
of  this  advantage  now,  but  somehow  it  was  not 
the  consolation  he  had  expected.  He  knew,  of 
course,  that  if  they  had  been  coming  from  Bos 
ton,  for  instance,  to  sail  in  the  Nortunbia,  they 
would  probably  have  gone  on  board  the  night 
before,  and  sweltered  through  its  heat  among 
the  strange  smells  and  noises  of  the  dock  and 
wharf,  instead  of  breakfasting  at  their  own 
table,  and  smoothly  bowling  down  the  asphalt 
on  to  the  ferry-boat,  and  so  to  the  very  foot  of 
the  gangway  at  the  ship's  side,  all  in  the  cool 
of  the  early  morning.  But  though  he  had  now 
the  cool  of  the  early  morning  on  these  condi- 


tions,  there  was  by  no  means  enough  of  it. 
The  sun  was  already  burning  the  life  out  of 
the  air,  with  the  threat  of  another  day  of  the 
terrible  heat  that  had  prevailed  for  a  week 
past ;  and  that  last  breakfast  at  home  had  not 
been  gay,  though  it  had  been  lively,  in  a  fashion, 
through  Mrs.  March's  efforts  to  convince  her 
son  that  she  did  not  want  him  to  come  and  see 
them  off.  Of  her  daughter's  coming  all  the 
way  from  Chicago  there  was  no  question,  and 
she  reasoned  that  if  he  did  not  come  to  say 
good-bye  on  board  it  would  be  the  same  as  if 
they  were  not  going. 

"Don't  you  want  to  go?"  March  asked  with 
an  obscure  resentment. 

"  I  don't  want  to  seem  to  go,"  she  said  with 
the  calm  of  those  who  have  logic  on  their 
side. 

As  she  drove  away  with  her  husband  she  was 
not  so  sure  of  her  satisfaction  in  the  feint  she 
had  arranged,  though  when  she  saw  the  ghastly 
partings  of  people  on  board,  she  was  glad  she 
had  not  allowed  her  son  to  come.  She  kept 
saying  this  to  herself,  and  when  they  climbed 
to  the  ship  from  the  wharf,  and  found  them 
selves  in  the  crowd  that  choked  the  saloons 
and  promenades  and  passages  and  stairways 
and  landings,  she  said  it  more  than  once  to 
her  husband. 

She  heard  weary  elders  pattering  empty 
politenesses  of  farewell  with  friends  who  had 
32 


come  to  see  them  off,  as  they  stood  withdrawn 
in  such  refuges  as  the  ship's  architecture  afford 
ed,  or  submitted  to  be  pushed  and  twirled  about 
by  the  surging  throng  when  they  got  in  its  way. 
She  pitied  these  in  their  affliction,  which  she 
perceived  that  they  could  not  lighten  or  shorten, 
but  she  had  no  patience  with  the  young  girls, 
who  broke  into  shrieks  of  nervous  laughter  at  the 
coming  of  certain  young  men,  and  kept  laughing 
and  beckoning  till  they  made  the  young  men 
see  them  ;  and  then  stretched  their  hands  to 
them  and  stood  screaming  and  shouting  to 
them  across  the  intervening  heads  and  shoul 
ders.  vSome  girls,  of  those  whom  no  one  had 
come  to  bid  good-bye,  made  themselves  merry, 
or  at  least  noisy,  by  rushing  off  to  the  dining- 
room  and  looking  at  the  cards  on  the  bouquets 
heaping  the  tables,  to  find  whether  any  one  had 
sent  them  flowers.  Others  whom  young  men 
had  brought  bunches  of  violets  hid  their  noses  in 
them,  and  dropped  their  fans  and  handkerchiefs 
and  card-cases,  and  thanked  the  young  men  for 
picking  them  up.  Others  had  got  places  in  the 
music- room,  and  sat  there  with  open  boxes  of 
long-stemmed  roses  in  their  laps,  and  talked  up 
into  the  faces  of  the  men,  with  becoming  lifts 
and  slants  of  their  eyes  and  chins.  In  the  midst 
of  the  turmoil  children  struggled  against  peo 
ple's  feet  and  knees,  and  bewildered  mothers 
flew  at  the  ship's  officers  and  battered  them 
with  questions  alien  to  their  respective  func- 
35 


tions  as  they  amiably  stifled  about  in  their 
thick  uniforms. 

Sailors  slung  over  the  ship's  side  on  swing 
ing  seats  were  placidly  smearing  it  with  paint 
at  that  last  moment ;  the  bulwarks  were  thickly 
set  with  the  heads  and  arms  of  passengers  who 
were  making  signs  to  friends  on  shore,  or  call 
ing  messages  to  them  that  lost  themselv7es  in 
louder  noises  midway.  Some  of  the  women  in 
the  steerage  were  crying  ;  they  were  probably 
not  going  to  Europe  for  pleasure  like  the  first- 
cabin  passengers,  or  even  for  their  health  ;  on 
the  wharf  below  March  saw  the  face  of  one 
young  girl  twisted  with  weeping,  and  he  wished 
he  had  not  seen  it.  He  turned  from  it,  and 
looked  into  the  eyes  of  his  son,  who  was  laugh 
ing  at  his  shoulder.  He  said  that  he  had  to 
come  down  with  a  good-bye  letter  from  his  sis 
ter,  which  he  made  an  excuse  for  following 
them  ;  but  he  had  always  meant  to  see  them 
off,  he  owned.  The  letter  had  just  come  with 
a  special  delivery  stamp,  and  it  warned  them 
that  she  had  sent  another  good-bye  letter  with 
some  flowers  on  board.  Mrs.  March  scolded  at 
them  both,  but  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  in 
the  renewed  stress  of  parting  which  he  thought 
he  had  put  from  him,  March  went  on  taking 
note,  as  with  alien  senses,  of  the  scene  before 
him,  while  they  all  talked  on  together,  and  re 
peated  the  nothings  they  had  said  already. 

A  rank  odor  of  beet-root  sugar  rose  from  the 
36 


far-branching  sheds  where  some  freight  steam 
ers  of  the  line  lay,  and  seemed  to  mingle  chemi 
cally  with  the  noise  which  came  up  from  the 
wharf  next  to  the  Noruuibia.  The  mass  of 
spectators  deepened  and  dimmed  away  into 
the  shadow  of  the  roofs,  and  along  its  front 
came  files  of  carriages  and  trucks  and  carts, 
and  discharged  the  arriving  passengers  and 
their  baggage,  and  were  lost  in  the  crowd, 
which  they  penetrated  like  slow  currents,  be 
coming  clogged  and  arrested  from  time  to  time, 
and  then  beginning  to  move  again. 

The  passengers  incessantly  mounted  by  the 
canvas-draped  galleries,  leading,  fore  and  aft, 
into  the  ship.  Bare-headed,  blue- jacketed, 
brass-buttoned  stewards  dodged  skilfully  in  and 
out  among  them  with  their  hand-bags,  hold-alls, 
hat-boxes,  and  state-room  trunks,  and  ran  be 
fore  them  into  the  different  depths  and  heights 
where  they  hid  these  burdens,  and  then  ran 
back  for  more  Some  of  the  passengers  fol 
lowed  and  made  sure  that  their  things  were 
put  in  the  right  places  ;  but  most  of  them  re 
mained  wedged  among  the  earlier  comers,  or 
pushed  aimlessly  in  and  out  of  the  doors  of  the 
promenades. 

The  baggage  for  the  hold  continually  rose  in 
huge  blocks  from  the  wharf,  with  a  loud  cluck 
ing  of  the  tackle,  and  sank  into  the  open  maw 
of  the  ship,  momently  gathering  herself  for  her 
long  race  seaward  with  harsh  hissings  and  rat- 
37 


275348 


tlings  and  gurglings.  There  was  no  apparent 
reason  why  it  should  all  or  any  of  it  end,  but 
there  came  a  moment  when  there  began  to  be 
warnings  that  were  almost  threats  of  the  end. 
The  ship's  whistle  sounded,  as  if  marking  a 
certain  interval;  and  Mrs.  March  humbly  en 
treated,  sternly  commanded,  her  son  to  go 
ashore,  or  else  be  carried  to  Europe.  They 
disputed  whether  that  was  the  last  signal  or 
not ;  she  was  sure  it  was,  and  she  appealed  to 
March,  who  was  moved  against  his  reason.  He 
affected  to  talk  calmly  with  his  son,  and  gave 
him  some  last  charges  about  Every  OtJicr  Week. 

Some  people  now  interrupted  their  leave- 
taking  ;  but  the  arriving  passengers  only  ar 
rived  more  rapidly  at  the  gangways  ;  the  bulks 
of  baggage  swung  more  swiftly  into  the  air.  A 
bell  rang,  and  there  rose  women's  cries,  "  Oh, 
that  is  the  shore-bell  !"  and  men's  protests,  "  It 
is  only  the  first  bell!"  More  and  more  began 
to  descend  the  gangways,  fore  and  aft,  and  soon 
outnumbered  those  who  were  coming  aboard. 

March  tried  not  to  be  nervous  about  his  son's 
lingering  ;  he  was  ashamed  of  his  anxiety  ;  but 
he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  Better  be  off,  Tom." 

His  mother  now  said  she  did  not  care  if  Tom 
were  really  carried  to  Europe  ;  and  at  last  he 
said,  Well,  he  guessed  he  must  go  ashore,  as  if 
there  had  been  no  question  of  that  before  ;  and 
then  she  clung  to  him  and  would  not  let  him 
go  ;  but  she  acquired  merit  with  herself  at  last 
38 


by  pushing  him  into  the  gangway  with  her  own 
hands  :  he  nodded  and  waved  his  hat  from  its 
foot,  and  mixed  with  the  crowd. 

Presently  there  was  hardly  any  one  coming 
aboard,  and  the  sailors  began  to  undo  the  lash 
ings  of  the  gangways  from  the  ship's  side;  files 
of  men  on  the  wharf  laid  hold  of  their  rails  ; 
the  stewards  guarding  their  approach  looked 
up  for  the  signal  to  come  aboard  ;  and  in  vivid 
pantomime  forbade  some  belated  leave-takers 
to  ascend.  These  stood  aside,  exchanging  bows 
and  grins  with  the  friends  whom  they  could 
not  reach  ;  they  all  tried  to  make  one  another 
hear  some  last  words.  The  moment  came  when 
the  saloon  gangway  was  detached  ;  then  it  was 
pulled  ashore,  and  the  section  of  the  bulwarks 
opening  to  it  was  locked,  not  to  be  unlocked  on 
this  side  of  the  world.  An  indefinable  impulse 
communicated  itself  to  the  steamer  :  while  it 
still  seemed  motionless  it  moved.  The  thick 
spread  of  faces  on  the  wharf,  which  had  looked 
at  times  like  some  sort  of  strange  flowers  in  a 
level  field,  broke  into  a  universal  tremor,  and 
the  air  above  was  filled  with  hats  and  hand 
kerchiefs,  as  if  with  the  flight  of  birds  rising 
from  the  field. 

The  Marches  tried  to  make  out  their  son's 
face  ;  they  believed  that  they  did  ;  but  they 
decided  that  they  had  not  seen  him,  and  his 
mother  said  that  she  was  glad  ;  it  would  only 
have  made  it  harder  to  bear,  though  she  was 
39 


glad  he  had  come  over  to  say  good-bye  :  it  had 
seemed  so  unnatural  that  he  should  not,  when 
everybody  else  was  saying  good-bye. 

On  the  wharf  color  was  now  taking  the  place 
of  form  ;  the  scene  ceased  to  have  the  effect  of 
an  instantaneous  photograph  ;  it  was  like  an 
impressionistic  study.  As  the  ship  swung  free 
of  the  shed  and  got  into  the  stream,  the  shore 
lost  reality.  Up  to  a  certain  moment,  all  was 
still  New  York,  all  was  even  Hoboken  ;  then 
amidst  the  grotesque  and  monstrous  shows  of 
the  architecture  on  either  shore  March  felt 
himself  at  sea  and  on  the  way  to  Europe. 

The  fact  was  accented  by  the  trouble  peo 
ple  were  already  making  with  the  deck-steward 
about  their  steamer  chairs,  which  they  all  want 
ed  put  in  the  best  places,  and  March,  with  a 
certain  heartache,  was  involuntarily  verifying 
the  instant  in  which  he  ceased  to  be  of  his  na 
tive  shores  while  still  in  full  sight  of  them, 
when  he  suddenly  reverted  to  them,  and  as  it 
were  landed  on  them  again  in  an  incident  that 
held  him  breathless.  A  man,  bareheaded,  and 
with  his  arms  flung  wildly  abroad,  came  flying 
down  the  promenade  from  the  steerage.  "  Cap- 
itan  !  Capitan  !  There  is  a  ivoman  /"  he  shouted 
in  nondescript  English.  "  She  must  go  hout ! 
She  must  go  hout  /"  Some  vital  fact  imparted 
itself  to  the  ship's  command  and  seemed  to 
penetrate  to  the  ship's  heart ;  she  stopped,  as  if 
with  a  sort  of  majestic  relenting.  A  tug  panted 
40 


THEIR    STEAMER    CHAIRS    IN    THE    BEST   PLACES 


to  her  side,  and  lifted  a  ladder  to  it ;  the  bare 
headed  man,  and  a  woman  gripping  a  baby  in 
her  arms,  sprawled  safely  down  its  rungs  to 
the  deck  of  the  tug,  and  the  steamer  moved 
seaward  again. 

"What  is  it?"  Oh,  what  is  it?"  his  wife  de 
manded  of  March's  share  of  their  common 
ignorance.  A  young  fellow  passing  stopped 
as  if  arrested  by  the  tragic  note  in  her  voice, 
and  explained  that  the  woman  had  left  three 
little  children  locked  up  in  her  tenement  while 
she  came  to  bid  some  friends  on  board  good-bye. 

He  passed  on,  and  Mrs.  March  said,  "What 
a  charming  face  he  had  !"  even  before  she 
began  to  wreak  upon  that  wretched  mother 
the  overwrought  sympathy  which  makes  good 
women  desire  the  punishment  of  people  who 
have  escaped  danger.  She  would  not  hear  any 
excuse  for  her.  "  Her  children  oughtn't  to  have 
been  out  of  her  mind  for  an  instant." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  send  back  a  line  to  ours 
by  the  pilot  ?"  he  asked. 

She  started  from  him.  "  Oh,  was  I  really 
beginning  to  forget  them  ?" 

In  the  saloon  where  people  were  scattered 
about  writing  pilot's  letters  she  made  him  join 
her  in  an  impassioned  epistle  of  farewell,  which 
once  more  left  none  of  the  nothings  unsaid  that 
they  had  many  times  repeated.  She  would 
not  let  him  put  the  stamp  on,  for  fear  it  would 
not  stick,  and  she  had  an  agonizing  moment  of 
43 


doubt  whether  it  ought  not  to  be  a  German 
stamp  ;  she  was  not  pacified  till  the  steward  in 
charge  of  the  mail  decided. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  forgiven  myself,"  March 
said,  "if  we  hadn't  let  Tom  know  that  twenty 
minutes  after  he  left  us  we  were  still  alive  and 
well." 

"  It's  to  Bella,  too,"  she  reasoned. 

He  found  her  making  their  state-room  look 
homelike  with  their  familiar  things  when  he 
came  with  their  daughter's  steamer  letter  and 
the  flowers  and  fruit  she  had  sent.  She  said, 
Very  well,  they  would  all  keep,  and  went  on 
with  her  unpacking.  He  asked  her  if  she  did 
not  think  these  home  things  made  it  rather 
ghastly,  and  she  said  if  he  kept  on  in  that  way 
she  should  certainly  go  back  on  the  pilot-boat. 
He  perceived  that  her  nerves  were  spent.  He 
had  resisted  the  impulse  to  an  ill-timed  joke 
about  the  life-preservers  under  their  berths 
when  the  sound  of  the  breakfast-horn,  waver- 
ering  first  in  the  distance,  found  its  way  nearer 
and  clearer  down  their  corridor. 


VII 


IN  one  of  the  many  visits  to  the  steamship 
office  which  his  wife's  anxieties  obliged  him 
to  make,  March  had  discussed  the  question 
of  seats  in  the  dining-saloon.  At  first  he  had 
his  ambition  for  the  captain's  table,  but  they 
convinced  him  more  easily  than  he  afterwards 
convinced  Mrs.  March  that  the  captain's  table 
had  become  a  superstition  of  the  past,  and  con 
ferred  no  special  honor.  It  proved  in  the  event 
that  the  captain  of  the  Norumbia  had  the  good 
feeling  to  dine  in  a  lower  saloon  among  the 
passengers  who  paid  least  for  their  rooms. 
But  while  the  Marches  were  still  in  their  ig 
norance  of  this,  they  decided  to  get  what  ad 
venture  they  could  out  of  letting  the  head 
steward  put  them  where  he  liked,  and  they 
came  in  to  breakfast  with  a  careless  curiosity 
to  see  what  he  had  done  for  them. 

There  seemed  scarcely  a  vacant  place  in  the 
45 


huge  saloon  ;  through  the  oval  openings  in  the 
centre  they  looked  down  into  the  lower  saloon 
and  up  into  the  music-room,  as  thickly  thronged 
with  breakfasters.  The  tables  were  brightened 
with  the  bouquets  and  the  floral  designs  of 
ships,  anchors,  harps,  and  doves  sent  to  the 
lady  passengers,  and  at  one  time  the  Marches 
thought  they  were  going  to  be  put  before  a 
steam-yacht  realized  to  the  last  detail  in  blue 
and  white  violets.  The  ports  of  the  saloon 
were  open,  and  showed  the  level  sea  ;  the  ship 
rode  with  no  motion  except  the  tremor  from 
her  screws.  The  sound  of  talking  and  laugh 
ing  rose  with  the  clatter  of  knives  and  forks 
and  the  clash  of  crockery  ;  the  homely  smell 
of  the  coffee  and  steak  and  fish  mixed  with  the 
spice  of  the  roses  and  carnations  ;  the  stewards 
ran  hither  and  thither,  and  a  young  foolish  joy 
of  travel  welled  up  in  the  elderly  hearts  of  the 
pair.  When  the  head  steward  turned  out  the 
swivel-chairs  where  they  were  to  sit  they  both 
made  an  inclination  towards  the  people  already 
at  table,  as  if  it  had  been  a  company  at  some 
far  forgotten  table  d'hote  in  the  later  sixties. 
The  head  steward  seemed  to  understand  as  well 
as  speak  English,  but  the  table-stewards  had 
only  an  effect  of  English,  which  they  eked  out 
with  "  Bleace  !"  for  all  occasions  of  inquiry, 
apology,  and  reassurance,  as  the  equivalent  of 
their  native  "  Bitte  /"  Otherwise  there  was  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  they  did  not  speak  Ger- 
46 


man,  which  was  the  language  of  a  good  half  of 
the  passengers.  The  stewards  looked  English, 
however,  in  conformity  to  what  seems  the  ideal 
of  every  kind  of  foreign  seafaring  people,  and 
that  went  a  good  way  towards  making  them 
intelligible. 

March,  to  whom  his  wife  mainly  left  their 
obeisance,  made  it  so  tentative  that  if  it  should 
meet  no  response  he  could  feel  that  it  had  been 
nothing  more  than  a  forward  stoop,  such  as 
was  natural  in  sitting  down.  He  need  not 
really  have  taken  this  precaution  ;  those  whose 
eyes  he  caught  more  or  less  nodded  in  return. 
A  nice-looking  boy  of  thirteen  or  fourteen,  who 
had  the  place  on  the  left  of  the  lady  in  the  sofa 
seat  under  the  port,  bowed  with  almost  magis 
terial  gravity,  and  made  the  lady  on  the  sofa 
smile,  as  if  she  were  his  mother  and  understood 
him.  March  decided  that  she  had  been  some 
time  a  widow  ;  and  he  easily  divined  that  the 
young  couple  on  her  right  had  been  so  little 
time  husband  and  wife  that  they  would  rather 
not  have  it  known.  Next  them  was  a  young 
lady  whom  he  did  not  at  first  think  so  good- 
looking  as  she  proved  later  to  be,  though  she 
had  at  once  a  pretty  nose,  with  a  slight  upward 
slant  at  the  point,  long  eyes  under  fallen  lashes, 
a  straight  forehead,  not  too  high,  and  a  mouth 
which  perhaps  the  exigencies  of  breakfasting 
did  not  allow  its  characteristic  expression.  She 
had  what  Mrs.  March  thought  interesting  hair, 
D  49 


of  a  dull  black,  roughly  rolled  away  from  her 
forehead  and  temples  in  a  fashion  not  particu 
larly  becoming  to  her,  and  she  had  the  air  of 
not  looking  so  well  as  she  might  if  she  had 
chosen.  The  elderly  man  on  her  right,  it  was 
easy  to  see,  was  her  father  ;  they  had  a  family 
likeness,  though  his  fair  hair,  now  ashen  with 
age,  was  so  different  from  hers.  He  wore  his 
beard  cut  in  the  fashion  of  the  Second  Empire, 
with  a  Louis  Napoleonic  mustache,  imperial, 
and  chin  tuft;  his  neat  head  was  cropped  close, 
and  there  was  something  Gallic  in  its  effect  and 
something  remotely  military :  he  had  blue 
eyes,  really  less  severe  than  he  meant,  though 
he  frowned  a  good  deal,  and  managed  them 
with  glances  of  a  staccato  quickness,  as  if 
challenging  a  potential  disagreement  with  his 
opinions. 

The  gentleman  on  his  right,  who  sat  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  was  of  the  humorous,  subi- 
ronical  American  expression,  and  a  smile  at 
the  corner  of  his  kindly  mouth,  under  an  iron- 
gray  full  beard  cut  short,  at  once  questioned 
and  tolerated  the  new-comers  as  he  glanced  at 
them.  He  responded  to  March's  bow  almost 
as  decidedly  as  the  nice  boy,  whose  mother  he 
confronted  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and 
with  his  comely  bulk  formed  an  interesting 
contrast  to  her  vivid  slightness.  She  was  brill 
iantly  dark,  behind  the  gleam  of  the  gold- 
rimmed  glasses  perched  on  her  pretty  nose. 
5° 


If  the  talk  had  been  general  before  the 
Marches  came,  it  did  not  at  once  renew  itself 
in  that  form.  Nothing  was  said  while  they 
were  having  their  first  struggle  with  the  table- 
stewards,  who  repeated  the  order  as  if  to  show 
how  fully  they  had  misunderstood  it.  The 
gentleman  at  the  head  of  the  table  intervened 
at  last,  and  then,  "  I'm  obliged  to  you,"  March 
said,  "  for  your  German.  I  left  mine  in  a 
phrase-book  in  my  other  coat  pocket." 

"Oh,  I  wasn't  speaking  German,"  said  the 
other.  "  It  was  merely  their  kind  of  Eng 
lish." 

The  company  were  in  the  excitement  of  a 
novel  situation  which  disposes  people  to  ac 
quaintance,  and  this  exchange  of  small  pleas 
antries  made  every  one  laugh,  except  the  fa 
ther  and  daughter ;  but  they  had  the  effect  of 
being  tacitly  amused. 

The  mother  of  the  nice  boy  said  to  Mrs. 
March,  "  You  may  not  get  what  you  ordered, 
but  it  will  be  good." 

"Even  if  you  don't  know  what  it  is!"  said 
the  young  bride,  and  then  blushed,  as  if  she 
had  been  too  bold. 

Mrs.  March  liked  the  blush  and  the  young- 
bride  for  it,  and  she  asked,  "  Have  you  ever 
been  on  one  of  these  German  boats  before  ? 
They  seem  very  comfortable." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !  we've  never  been  on  any 
boat  before."  She  made  a  little  petted  mouth 
5' 


of  deprecation,  and  added  simple  -  heartedly, 
"  My  husband  was  going  out  on  business,  and 
he  thought  he  might  as  well  take  me  along." 

The  husband  seemed  to  feel  himself  brought 
in  by  this,  and  said  he  did  not  see  why  they 
should  not  make  it  a  pleasure-trip,  too.  They 
put  themselves  in  a  position  to  be  patronized 
by  their  deference,  and  in  the  pauses  of  his  talk 
with  the  gentleman  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
March  heard  his  wife  abusing  their  inexperience 
to  be  unsparingly  instructive  about  European 
travel.  He  wondered  whether  she  would  be 
afraid  to  own  that  it  was  nearly  thirty  years 
since  she  had  crossed  the  ocean  ;  though  that 
might  have  seemed  recent  to  people  who  had 
never  crossed  at  all. 

They  listened  with  respect  as  she  boasted  in 
what  an  anguish  of  wisdom  she  had  decided  be 
tween  the  Colmannia  and  the  Norumbia.  The 
bride  said  she  did  not  know  there  was  such  a 
difference  in  steamers,  but  when  Mrs.  March 
perfervidly  assured  her  that  there  was  all  the 
difference  in  the  world,  she  submitted  and  said 
she  supposed  she  ought  to  be  thankful  that 
they  had  hit  upon  the  right  one.  They  had 
telegraphed  for  berths  and  taken  what  was 
given  them  ;  their  room  seemed  to  be  very 
nice. 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  March,  and  her  husband 
knew  that  she  was  saying  it  to  reconcile  them 
to  the  inevitable,  "  all  the  rooms  on  the  Norum- 
52 


bia  are  nice.     The  only  difference  is  that  if  they 
are  on  the  south  side  you  have  the  sun." 

"  I'm  not  sure  which  is  the  south  side,"  said 
the  bride.  "We  seem  to  have  been  going  west 
ever  since  we  started,  and  I  feel  as  if  we  should 
reach  home  in  the  morning  if  we  had  a  good 
night.  Is  the  ocean  always  so  smooth  as 
this?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !"  said  Mrs.  March.  "  It's 
never  so  smooth  as  this,"  and  she  began  to  be 
outrageously  authoritative  about  the  ocean 
weather.  She  ended  by  declaring  that  the 
June  passages  were  always  good,  and  that  if 
the  ship  kept  a  southerly  course  they  would 
have  no  fogs  and  no  icebergs.  She  looked 
round,  arid  caught  her  husband's  eye.  "What 
is  it  ?  Have  I  been  bragging  ?  Well,  you 
understand,"  she  added  to  the  bride,  "  I've 
only  been  over  once,  a  great  while  ago,  and  I 
don't  really  know  anything  about  it,"  and  they 
laughed  together.  "  But  I  talked  so  much 
with  people  after  we  decided  to  go,  that  I  feel 
as  if  I  had  been  a  hundred  times." 

"  I  know,"  said  the  other  lady,  with  caressing 
intelligence.  "That  is  just  the  way  with — 
She  stopped,  and  looked  at  the  young  man 
whom  the  head  steward  was  bringing  up  to 
take  the  vacant  place  next  to  March.  He 
came  forward  stuffing  his  cap  into  the  pocket 
of  his  blue  serge  sack,  and  smiled  down  on  the 
company  with  such  happiness  in  his  gay  eyes 
53 


that  March  wondered  what  chance  at  this  late 
day  could  have  given  any  human  creature  his 
content  so  absolute,  and  what  calamity  could 
be  lurking  round  the  corner  to  take  it  out  of 
him.  The  new-comer  looked  at  March  as  if 
he  knew  him,  and  March  saw  at  a  second  glance 
that  he  was  the  young  fellow  who  had  told  him 
about  the  mother  put  off  after  the  start.  He 
asked  him  whether  there  was  any  change  in 
the  weather  yet  outside,  and  he  answered  eager 
ly,  as  if  the  chance  to  put  his  happiness  into 
the  mere  sound  of  words  were  a  favor  done 
him,  that  their  ship  had  just  spoken  one  of  the 
big  Hanseatic  mail-boats,  and  she  had  signalled 
back  that  she  had  met  ice  ;  so  that  they  would 
probably  keep  a  southerly  course,  and  not  have 
it  cooler  till  they  were  off  the  Banks. 

The  mother  of  the  boy  said,  "  I  thought  we 
must  be  off  the  Banks  when  I  came  out  of  my 
room,  but  it  was  only  the  electric  fan  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs." 

"  That  was  what  /thought,"  said  Mrs.  March. 
"  I  almost  sent  my  husband  back  for  my  shawl !" 
Both  the  ladies  laughed  and  acquired  merit 
with  each  other  by  their  common  experience. 

"Those  fans  do  make  a  great  difference  in 
the  climate,"  said  the  gentleman  at  the  head 
of  the  table.  "  They  ought  to  have  them  go 
ing  there  by  that  pillar,  or  else  close  the  ports. 
They  only  let  in  heat." 

They  easily  conformed  to  the  American  con- 
54 


vention  of  jocosity  in  their  talk  ;  it  perhaps  no 
more  represents  the  individual  mood  than  the 
convention  of  dulness  among  other  people ; 
but  it  seemed  to  make  the  young  man  feel  at 
home. 

"Why,  do  you  think  it's  uncomfortably 
warm  ?"  he  asked,  from  what  March  perceived 
to  be  a  meteorology  of  his  own.  He  laughed 
and  added,  "It  is  pretty  summer-like,"  as  if  he 
had  not  thought  of  it  before.  He  talked  of 
the  big  mail-boat,  and  said  he  would  like  to 
cross  on  such  a  boat  as  that,  and  then  he 
glanced  at  the  possible  advantage  of  having 
your  own  steam-yacht  like  the  one  which  he 
said  they  had  just  passed,  so  near  that  you 
could  see  what  a  good  time  the  people  were 
having  on  board.  He  began  to  speak  to  the 
Marches  ;  his  talk  spread  to  the  young  couple 
across  the  table  ;  it  visited  the  mother  on  the 
sofa  in  a  remark  which  she  might  ignore  with 
out  apparent  rejection,  and  without  really 
avoiding  the  boy,  it  glanced  off  towards  the 
father  and  daughter,  from  whom  it  fell,  to  rest 
with  the  gentleman  at  the  head  of  the  table. 

It  was  not  that  the  father  and  daughter  had 
slighted  his  overture,  if  it  was  so  much  as  that, 
but  that  they  were  tacitly  preoccupied,  or  were 
of  some  philosophy  concerning  their  fellow- 
breakfasters  which  did  not  suffer  them,  for  the 
present  at  least,  to  share  in  the  common  friend 
liness.  This  is  an  attitude  sometimes  produced 
55 


in  people  by  a  sense  of  just,  or  even  unjust, 
superiority,  sometimes  by  serious  trouble  ;  some 
times  by  transient  annoyance.  The  cause  was 
not  so  deep-seated  but  Mrs.  March,  before  she 
rose  from  her  place,  believed  that  she  had  de 
tected  a  slant  of  the  young  lady's  eyes,  from 
under  her  lashes,  towards  the  young  man  ;  and 
she  leaped  to  a  conclusion  concerning  them  in 
a  matter  where  all  logical  steps  are  imperti 
nent.  She  did  not  announce  her  arrival  at  this 
point  till  the  young  man  had  overtaken  her 
before  she  got  out  of  the  saloon,  and  presented 
the  handkerchief  she  had  dropped  under  the 
table. 

He  went  away  with  her  thanks,  and  then  she 
said  to  her  husband,  "Well,  he's  perfectly 
charming,  and  I  don't  wonder  she's  taken  with 
him  ;  that  kind  of  cold  girl  would  be,  though 
I'm  not  sure  that  she  is  cold.  She's  interest 
ing,  and  you  could  see  that  he  thought  so,  the 
more  he  looked  at  her  ;  I  could  see  him  look 
ing  at  her  from  the  very  first  instant  ;  he 
couldn't  keep  his  eyes  off  her  ;  she  piqued  his 
curiosity,  and  made  him  wonder  about  her." 

"  Now,  look  here,  Isabel  !  This  won't  do.  I 
can  stand  a  good  deal,  but  I  sat  between  you 
and  that  young  fellovt,  and  you  couldn't  tell 
whether  he  was  looking  at  that  girl  or  not." 

"  I  could  !  I  could  tell  by  the  expression  of 
her  face." 

"Oh,  well  !     If  it's  gone  as  far  as  that  with 
56 


you,  I  give  it  up.  When  are  you  going  to  have 
them  married  ?" 

"  Nonsense  !  I  want  you  to  find  out  who  all 
those  people  are.  How  are  you  going  to  do 
it?" 

"  Perhaps  the  passenger-list  will  say,"  he  sug 
gested. 


VIII 

THE  list  did  not  say  of  itself,  but  with  the 
help  of  the  head  steward's  diagram  it 
said  that  the  gentleman  at  the  head  of 
the  table  was  Mr.  R.  M.  Kenby  ;  the  father 
and  the  daughter  were  Mr.  E.  B.  Triscoe  and 
Miss  Triscoe  ;  the  bridal  pair  were  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Leffers ;  the  mother  and  her  son  were 
Mrs.  Adding  and  Mr.  Roswell  Adding ;  the 
young  man  who  came  in  last  was  Mr.  L.  J. 
Burnamy.  March  carried  the  list,  with  these 
names  carefully  checked  and  rearranged  on 
a  neat  plan  of  the  table,  to  his  wife  in  her 
steamer  chair,  and  left  her  to  make  out  the 
history  and  the  character  of  the  people  from  it. 
In  this  sort  of  conjecture  long  experience  had 
taught  him  his  futility,  and  he  strolled  up  and 
down  and  looked  at  the  life  about  him  with  no 
wish  to  penetrate  it  deeply. 

Long  Island  was  now  a  low  yellow  line  on 
58 


"LONG   ISLAND   WAS  NOW  A  LOW  YKLLOW   LJNfi ' 


the  left.  Some  fishing-boats  flickered  off  the 
shore ;  they  met  a  few  sail,  and  left  more 
behind  ;  but  already,  and  so  near  one  of  the 
greatest  ports  of  the  world,  the  spacious  soli 
tude  of  the  ocean  was  beginning.  There  was 
no  swell ;  the  sea  lay  quite  flat,  with  a  fine 
mesh  of  wrinkles  on  its  surface,  and  the  sun 
flamed  down  upon  it  from  a  sky  without  a 
cloud.  With  the  light  fair  wind,  there  was  no 
resistance  in  the  sultry  air ;  the  thin,  dun 
smoke  from  the  smoke-stack  fell  about  the 
decks  like  a  stifling  veil. 

The  promenades  were  as  uncomfortably 
crowded  as  the  sidewalk  of  Fourteenth  Street 
on  a  summer's  day,  and  showed  much  the  social 
average  of  a  New  York  shopping  thorough 
fare.  Distinction  is  something  that  does  not 
always  reveal  itself  at  first  sight  on  land  ;  and 
at  sea  it  is  still  more  retiring.  A  certain 
democracy  of  looks  and  clothes  was  the  most 
notable  thing  to  March  in  the  apathetic  groups 
and  detached  figures.  His  criticism  disabled 
the  saloon  passengers  of  even  so  much  personal 
appeal  as  he  imagined  in  some  of  the  second- 
cabin  passengers  whom  he  saw  across  their 
barrier  ;  they  had  at  least  the  pathos  of  their 
exclusion,  and  he  could  wonder  if  they  felt  it 
or  envied  him. 

At  Hoboken  he  had  seen  certain  people  com 
ing  on  board  who  looked  like  swells  ;  but  they 
had  now  either  retired  from  the  crowd,  or  they 
61 


had  already  conformed  to  the  prevailing  type. 
It  was  very  well  as  a  type  ;  he  was  of  it  him 
self  ;  but  he  wished  that  beauty  as  well  as  dis 
tinction  had  not  been  so  lost  in  it. 

In  fact,  he  no  longer  saw  so  much  beauty 
anywhere  as  he  once  did.  It  might  be  that  he 
saw  life  more  truly  than  when  he  was  young, 
and  that  his  glasses  were  better  than  his  eyes 
had  been  ;  but  there  were  analogies  that  for 
bade  his  thinking  so,  and  he  sometimes  had 
his  misgivings  that  the  trouble  was  with  his 
glasses.  He  made  what  he  could  of  a  pretty 
girl  who  had  the  air  of  not  meaning  to  lose  a 
moment  from  flirtation,  and  was  luring  her 
fellow -passengers  from  under  her  sailor  hat. 
She  had  already  attached  one  of  them,  and 
she  was  looking  out  for  more.  She  kept  mov 
ing  herself  from  the  waist  up,  as  if  she  worked 
there  on  a  pivot,  showing  now  this  side  and 
now  that  side  of  her  face,  and  visiting  the 
admirer  she  had  secured  with  a  smile  as  from 
the  lamp  of  a  revolving  light  as  she  turned. 

While  he  was  dwelling  upon  this  folly,  with 
a  sense  of  impersonal  pleasure  in  it  as  com 
plete  through  his  years  as  if  he  were  already  a 
disembodied  spirit,  the  pulse  of  the  engines 
suddenly  ceased,  and  he  joined  the  general  rush 
to  the  rail,  with  a  fantastic  expectation  of  see 
ing  another  distracted  mother  put  off  ;  but  it 
was  only  the  pilot  leaving  the  ship.  He  was 
climbing  down  the  ladder  which  hung  over  the 
62 


(Jim 

-i  iii  If 
= 

'b"' 


boat,  rising  and  sinking  on  the  sea  below,  while 
the  two  men  in  her  held  her  from  the  ship's 
side  with  their  oars  ;  in  the  offing  lay  the  white 
steam-yacht  which  now  replaces  the  picturesque 
pilot  -  sloop  of  other  times.  The  Norumbid's 
screws  turned  again  under  half  a  head  of 
steam  ;  the  pilot  dropped  from  the  last  rung 
of  the  ladder  into  the  boat,  and  caught  the 
bundle  of  letters  tossed  after  him.  Then  his 
men  let  go  the  line  that  was  towing  their 
craft,  and  the  incident  of  the  steamer's  de 
parture  was  finally  closed.  It  had  been  dra 
matically  heightened  perhaps  by  her  final  im 
patience  to  be  off  at  some  added  risk  to  the 
pilot  and  his  men,  but  not  painfully  so,  and 
March  smiled  to  think  how  men  whose  lives 
are  full  of  dangerous  chances  seem  always  to 
take  as  many  of  them  as  they  can. 

He  heard  a  girl's  fresh  voice  saying  at  his 
shoulder,  "  Well,  now  we  are  off  ;  and  I  sup 
pose  you're  glad,  papa?" 

"I'm  glad  we're  not  taking  the  pilot  on,  at 
least,"  answered  the  elderly  man  whom  the  girl 
had  spoken  to  ;  and  March  turned  to  see  the 
father  and  daughter  whose  reticence  at  the 
breakfast  -  table  had  interested  him.  He  won 
dered  that  he  had  left  her  out  of  the  account 
in  estimating  the  beauty  of  the  ship's  passen 
gers  ;  he  saw  now  that  she  was  not  only  ex 
tremely  pretty,  but  as  she  moved  away  she 
was  very  graceful ;  she  even  had  distinction. 
E  65 


He  had  fancied  a  tone  of  tolerance  and  at  the 
same  time  of  reproach  in  her  voice,  when  she 
spoke,  and  a  tone  of  defiance  and  not  very 
successful  denial  in  her  father's  ;  and  he  went 
back  with  these  impressions  to  his  wife,  whom 
he  thought  he  ought  to  tell  why  the  ship  had 
stopped. 

She  had  not  noticed  the  ship's  stopping,  in 
her  study  of  the  passenger -list,  and  she  did 
not  care  for  the  pilot's  leaving  ;  but  she  seemed 
to  think  his  having  overheard  those  words  of 
the  father  and  daughter  an  event  of  prime 
importance.  With  a  woman's  willingness  to 
adapt  the  means  to  the  end  she  suggested 
that  he  should  follow  them  up  and  try  to 
overhear  something  more ;  she  only  partially 
realized  the  infamy  of  her  suggestion  when  he 
laughed  in  scornful  refusal. 

"Of  course  I  don't  want  you  to  eavesdrop, 
but  I  do  want  you  to  find  out  about  them. 
And  about  Mr.  Burnamy,  too.  I  can  wait,  about 
the  others,  or  manage  for  myself,  but  these 
are  driving  me  to  distraction.  Now,  will  you  ?" 

He  said  he  would  do  anything  he  could  with 
honor,  and  at  one  of  the  earliest  turns  he  made 
on  the  other  side  of  the  ship  he  was  smilingly 
halted  by  Mr.  Burnamy,  who  asked  to  be  ex 
cused,  and  then  asked  if  he  were  not  Mr.  March 
of  Every  Other  Week ;  he  had  seen  the  name 
on  the  passenger-list,  and  felt  sure  it  must  be 
the  editor's.  He  seemed  so  trustfully  to  ex- 
66 


pect  March  to  remember  his  own  name  as  that 
of  a  writer  from  whom  he  had  accepted  a  short 
poem,  yet  imprinted,  that  the  editor  feigned  to 
do  so  until  he  really  did  dimly  recall  it.  He 
even  recalled  the  short  poem,  and  some  civil 
words  he  said  about  it  caused  Burnamy  to 
overrun  in  confidences  that  both  touched  and 
amused  him. 


IX 


BURNAMY,  it  seemed,  had  taken  passage 
on  iheNorunibia  because  he  found,  when 
he  arrived  in  New  York  the  day  before, 
that  she  was  the  first  boat  out.  His  train  was 
so  much  behind  time  that  when  he  reached  the 
office  of  the  Hanseatic  League  it  was  nominal 
ly  shut,  but  he  pushed  in  by  sufferance  of  the 
janitor,  and  found  a  berth  which  had  just  been 
given  up,  in  one  of  the  saloon-deck  rooms.  It 
was  that  or  nothing  ;  and  he  felt  rich  enough 
to  pay  for  it  himself  if  the  Bird  of  Prey,  who 
had  cabled  him  to  come  out  to  Carlsbad  as  his 
secretary,  would  not  stand  the  difference  be 
tween  the  price  and  that  of  the  lower  deck 
six-in-a-room  berth  which  he  would  have  taken 
if  he  had  been  allowed  a  choice. 

With  the  three  hundred  dollars  he  had  got 
for    his    book,   less   the  price  of    his   passage, 
changed   into    German   bank  -  notes  and   gold 
68 


pieces,  and  safely  buttoned  in  the  breast  pocket 
of  his  waistcoat,  he  felt  as  safe  from  pillage 
as  from  poverty  when  he  came  out  from  buy 
ing  his  ticket ;  he  covertly  pressed  his  arm 
against  his  breast  from  time  to  time,  for  the 
joy  of  feeling  his  money  there  and  not  from 
any  fear  of  finding  it  gone  He  wanted  to 
sing,  he  wanted  to  dance  ;  he  could  not  believe 
it  was  he,  as  he  rode  up  the  lonely  length  of 
Broadway  in  the  cable-car,  between  the  wild 
irregular  walls  of  the  canyon  which  the  cable- 
cars  have  all  to  themselves  at  the  end  of  a 
summer  afternoon. 

He  went  and  dined,  and  he  thought  he  dined 
well,  at  a  Spanish- American  restaurant,  for  fif 
ty  cents,  with  a  half-bottle  of  California  claret 
included.  When  he  came  back  to  Broadway  he 
was  aware  that  it  was  stiflingly  hot  in  the 
pinkish  twilight,  but  he  took  a  cable-car  again 
in  lack  of  other  pastime,  and  the  motion  served 
the  purpose  of  a  breeze,  which  he  made  the 
most  of  by  keeping  his  hat  off.  It  did  not 
really  matter  to  him  whether  it  was  hot  or 
cool ;  he  was  imparadised  in  weather  which 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  temperature.  Part 
ly  because  he  was  born  to  such  weather,  in  the 
gayety  of  soul  which  amused  some  people  with 
him,  and  partly  because  the  world  was  behav 
ing  as  he  had  always  expected,  he  was  opulent 
ly  content  with  the  present  moment.  But  he 
thought  very  tolerantly  of  the  future,  and  he 
69 


confirmed  himself  in  the  decision  he  had  al 
ready  made,  to  stick  to  Chicago  when  he  came 
back  to  America.  New  York  was  very  well, 
and  he  had  no  sentiment  about  Chicago  ;  but 
he  had  got  a  foothold  there ;  he  had  done 
better  with  an  Eastern  publisher,  he  believed, 
by  hailing  from  the  West,  and  he  did  not  be 
lieve  it  would  hurt  him  with  the  Eastern  public 
to  keep  on  hailing  from  the  West. 

He  was  glad  of  a  chance  to  see  Europe,  but 
he  did  not  mean  to  come  home  so  dazzled  as  to 
see  nothing  else  against  the  American  sky. 
He  fancied,  for  he  really  knew  nothing,  that  it 
was  the  light  of  Europe,  not  its  glare  that  he 
wanted,  and  he  wanted  it  chiefly  on  his  mate 
rial,  so  as  to  see  it  more  and  more  objectively. 
It  was  his  power  of  detachment  from  this  that 
had  enabled  him  to  do  his  sketches  in  the  paper 
with  such  charm  as  to  lure  a  cash  proposition 
from  a  publisher  when  he  put  them  together 
for  a  book,  but  he  believed  that  his  business 
faculty  had  much  to  do  with  his  success  ;  and 
he  was  as  proud  of  that  as  of  the  book  itself. 
Perhaps  he  was  not  so  very  proud  of  the  book  ; 
he  was  at  least  not  vain  of  it  ;  he  could  detach 
himself  from  his  art  as  well  as  his  material. 

Like  all  literary  temperaments  he  was  of  a 
certain  hardness,  in  spite  of  the  susceptibilities 
that  could  be  used  to  give  coloring  to  his  work. 
He  knew  this  well  enough,  but  he  believed 
that  there  were  depths  of  unprofessional  ten- 
70 


"BROADWAY  .   .   .   THE  IRREGULAR  WALLS  OF  THE  CANYON' 


derness  in  his  nature.  He  was  good  to  his  moth 
er,  and  he  sent  her  money,  and  wrote  to  her  in 
the  little  Indiana  town  where  he  had  left  her 
when  he  came  to  Chicago.  After  he  got  that 
invitation  from  the  Bird  of  Prey,  he  explored 
his  heart  for  some  affection  that  he  had  not 
felt  for  him  before,  and  he  found  a  wish  that  his 
employer  should  not  know  it  was  he  who  had 
invented  that  nickname  for  him.  He  prompt 
ly  avowed  this  in  the  newspaper  office  which 
formed  one  of  the  eyries  of  the  Bird  of  Prey, 
and  made  the  fellows  promise  not  to  give  him 
away.  He  failed  to  move  their  imagination 
when  he  brought  up  as  a  reason  for  softening 
towards  him  that  he  was  from  Burnamy's  own 
part  of  Indiana,  and  was  a  benefactor  of  Tip- 
pecanoe  University,  from  which  Burnamy  was 
graduated.  -  But  they  relished  the  cynicism  of 
his  attempt ;  and  they  were  glad  of  his  good- 
luck,  which  he  was  getting  square,  and  not 
rhomboid,  as  most  people  seem  to  get  their 
luck.  They  liked  him,  and  some  of  them  liked 
him  for  his  clean  young  life  as  well  as  for  his 
cleverness.  His  life  was  known  to  be  as  clean 
as  a  girl's,  and  he  looked  like  a  girl  with  his 
sweet  eyes,  though  he  had  rather  more  chin 
than  most  girls. 

The  conductor  came  to  reverse  his  seat,  and 
Burnamy  told  him  he  guessed  he  would  ride 
back  with  him  as  far  as  the  line  to  the  Hobo- 
ken  Ferry,  if  the  conductor  would  put  him  off 
73 


at  the  right  place.  It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock, 
and  he  thought  he  might  as  well  be  going  over 
to  the  ship,  where  he  had  decided  to  pass  the 
night.  After  he  found  her,  and  went  on  board, 
he  was  glad  he  had  not  gone  sooner.  A  queasy 
odor  of  drainage  stole  up  from  the  waters  of 
the  dock,  and  mixed  with  the  rank,  gross 
sweetness  of  the  bags  of  beet-root  sugar  from 
the  freight-steamers  ;  there  was  a  coming  and 
going  of  carts  and  trucks  on  the  wharf,  and  on 
the  ship  a  rattling  of  chains  and  a  clucking  of 
pulleys,  with  sudden  outbreaks  and  then  sud 
den  silences  of  trampling  sea-boots.  Burnamy 
looked  into  the  dining-saloon  and  the  music- 
room,  with  the  notion  of  trying  for  some  naps 
there  ;  then  he  went  to  his  state-room.  His 
room-mate,  whoever  he  was  to  be,  had  not 
come  ;  he  kicked  off  his  shoes  and  threw  off 
his  coat  and  tumbled  into  his  berth. 

He  meant  to  rest  awhile,  and  then  get  up 
and  spend  the  night  in  receiving  impressions. 
He  could  not  think  of  any  one  who  had  done 
the  facts  of  the  eve  of  sailing  on  an  Atlantic 
liner.  lie  thought  he  would  use  the  material 
first  in  a  letter  to  the  paper  and  afterwards  in 
a  poem  ;  but  he  found  himself  unable  to  grasp 
the  notion  of  its  essential  relation  to  the  choice 
between  chicken  croquettes  and  sweetbreads 
as  entrees  of  the  restaurant  dinner  where  he 
had  been  offered  neither  ;  he  knew  that  he  had 
begun  to  dream,  and  that  he  must  get  up.  He 
74 


A    STATE-ROOM    INTERIOR 


was  just  going  to  get  up,  when  he  woke  to  a 
sense  of  freshness  in  the  air,  penetrating  from 
the  new  day  outside.  He  looked  at  his  watch 
and  found  it  was  quarter  past  six  ;  he  glanced 
round  the  state-room  and  saw  that  he  had 
passed  the  night  alone  in  it.  Then  he  splashed 
himself  hastily  at  the  basin  next  his  berth,  and 
jumped  into  his  clothes,  and  went  on  deck, 
anxious  to  lose  no  feature  or  emotion  of  the 
ship's  departure. 

When  she  was  fairly  off  he  returned  to  his 
room  to  change  the  thick  coat  he  had  put  on 
at  the  instigation  of  the  early  morning  air. 
His  room-mate  was  still  absent,  but  he  was  now 
represented  by  his  state-room  baggage,  and 
Burnamy  tried  to  infer  him  from  it.  He  per 
ceived  a  social  quality  in  his  dress-coat  case, 
capacious  gladstone,  hat-box,  rug,  umbrella,  and 
sole-leather  steamer  trunk  which  he  could  not 
attribute  to  his  own  equipment.  The  things 
were  not  so  new  as  his  ;  they  had  an  effect  of 
polite  experience,  with  a  foreign  registry  and 
customs  label  on  them  here  and  there.  They 
had  been  chosen  with  both  taste  and  knowl 
edge,  and  Burnamy  would  have  said  that  they 
were  certainly  English  things,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  initials  U.  S.  A.  which  followed 
the  name  of  E.  B.  Triscoe  on  the  end  of  the 
steamer  trunk  showing  itself  under  the  foot  of 
the  lower  berth. 

The  lower  berth  had  fallen  to  Burnamy 
77 


through  the  default  of  the  passenger  whose 
ticket  he  had  got  at  the  last  hour  ;  the  clerk  in 
the  steamer  office  had  been  careful  to  impress 
him  with  this  advantage,  and  he  now  imagined 
a  trespass  on  his  property.  But  he  reassured 
himself  by  a  glance  at  his  ticket,  and  went  out 
to  watch  the  ship's  passage  down  the  stream 
and  through  the  Narrows.  After  breakfast  he 
came  to  his  room  again,  to  see  what  could  be 
done  from  his  valise  to  make  him  look  better 
in  the  eyes  of  a  girl  whom  he  had  seen  across 
the  table  ;  of  course  he  professed  a  much  more 
general  purpose.  He  blamed  himself  for  not 
having  got  at  least  a  pair  of  the  white  tennis- 
shoes  which  so  many  of  the  passengers  were 
wearing  ;  his  russet  shoes  had  turned  shabby 
on  his  feet  ;  but  there  was  a  pair  of  enamelled 
leather  boots  in  his  bag  which  he  thought 
might  do. 

His  room  was  in  the  group  of  cabins  on  the 
upper  deck  ;  he  had  already  missed  his  way  to 
it  by  mistaking  the  corridor  which  it  opened 
into  ;  and  he  was  not  sure  that  he  was  not 
blundering  again  when  he  peered  down  the 
narrow  passage  where  he  supposed  it  was.  A 
lady  was  standing  at  an  open  state-room  door, 
resting  her  hands  against  the  jambs  and  lean 
ing  forward  with  her  head  within  and  talking 
to  some  one  there.  Before  he  could  draw  back 
and  try  another  corridor  he  heard  her  say :  "  Per 
haps  he's  some  young  man,  and  wouldn't  care." 
78 


Burnamy  could  not  make  out  the  answer 
which  came  from  within.  The  lady  spoke  again 
in  a  tone  of  reluctant  assent  :  "  No,  I  don't 
suppose  you  could  ;  but  if  he  understood,  per 
haps  he  would  offer." 

She  drew  her  head  out  of  the  room,  stepping 
back  a  pace,  and  lingering  a  moment  at  the 
threshold.  She  looked  round  over  her  shoulder 
and  discovered  Burnamy,  where  he  stood  hesi 
tating  at  the  head  of  the  passage.  She  ebbed 
before  him,  and  then  flowed  round  him  in  her 
instant  escape  ;  with  some  murmured  incohe- 
rencies  about  speaking  to  her  father,  she  van 
ished  in  a  corridor  on  the  other  side  of  the 
ship,  while  he  stood  staring  into  the  doorway 
of  his  room. 

He  had  seen  that  she  was  the  young  lady  for 
whom  he  had  come  to  put  on  his  enamelled 
shoes,  and  he  saw  that  the  person  within  was 
the  elderly  gentleman  who  had  sat  next  her 
at  breakfast.  He  begged  his  pardon,  as  he 
entered,  and  said  he  hoped  he  should  not  dis 
turb  him.  "  I'm  afraid  I  left  my  things  all 
over  the  place  when  I  got  up  this  morning." 

The  other  entreated  him  not  to  mention  it, 
and  went  on  taking  from  his  hand-bag  a 
variety  of  toilet  appliances  which  the  sight  of 
made  Burnamy  vow  to  keep  his  own  simple 
combs  and  brushes  shut  in  his  valise  all  the 
way  over.  "  You  slept  on  board,  then,"  he 
suggested,  arresting  himself  with  a  pair  of  low 
79 


shoes  in  his  hand  ;  he  decided  to  put  them  in 
a  certain  pocket  of  his  steamer-bag. 

"  Oh  yes,"  Burnamy  laughed,  nervously  :  "  I 
came  near  oversleeping,  and  getting  off  to  sea 
without  knowing  it ;  and  I  rushed  out  to  save 
myself,  and  so — " 

He  began  to  gather  up  his  belongings  while 
he  followed  the  movements  of  Mr.  Triscoe 
with  a  wistful  eye.  He  would  have  liked  to 
offer  the  lower  berth  to  this  senior  of  his, 
when  he  saw  him  arranging  to  take  posses 
sion  of  the  upper  ;  but  he  did  not  quite  know 
how  to  manage  it.  He  noticed  that  as  the 
other  moved  about  he  limped  slightly,  unless 
it  were  rather  a  weary  easing  of  his  person 
from  one  limb  to  the  other.  He  stooped  to 
pull  his  trunk  out  from  under  the  berth,  and 
Burnamy  sprang  to  help  him. 

"  Let  me  get  that  out  for  you  !"  He  caught 
it  up  and  put  it  on  the  sofa  under  the  port. 
"  Is  that  where  you  want  it  ?" 

"Why,  yes,"  the  other  assented.  "You're 
very  good,"  and  as  he  took  out  his  key  to  un 
lock  the  trunk  he  relented  a  little  further  to 
the  intimacies  of  the  situation.  "  Have  you 
arranged  with  the  bath-steward  yet  ?  It's  such 
a  full  boat." 

"  No,  I  haven't,"  said  Burnamy,  as  if  he  had 
tried  and  failed  ;  till  then  he  had  not  known 
that  there  was  a  bath-steward.  "  Shall  I  get 
him  for  you  ?" 

80 


A   CORRIDOR    BETWEEN    STATE-ROOMS 


"No,  no.  Our  bedroom -steward  will  send 
him,  I  dare  say,  thank  you." 

Mr.  Triscoe  had  got  his  trunk  open,  and 
Burnamy  had  no  longer  an  excuse  for  lingering. 
In  his  defeat  concerning  the  bath-steward,  as 
he  felt  it  to  be.  he  had  not  the  courage,  now, 
to  offer  the  lower  berth.  He  went  away  for 
getting  to  change  his  shoes ;  but  he  came 
back,  and  as  soon  as  he  got  the  enamelled 
shoes  on,  and  shut  the  shabby  russet  pair  in 
his  bag,  he  said,  abruptly  :  "  Mr.  Triscoe,  I 
wish  you'd  take  the  lower  berth.  I  got  it  at 
the  eleventh  hour  by  some  fellow's  giving  it 
up,  and  it  isn't  as  if  I'd  bargained  for  it  a 
month  ago." 

The  elder  man  gave  him  one  of  his  staccato 
glances  in  which  Burnamy  fancied  suspicion 
and  even  resentment.  But  he  said,  after  the 
moment  of  reflection  which  he  gave  himself, 
"Why,  thank  you,  if  you  don't  mind,  really." 

"  Not  at  all !"  cried  the  young  man.  "  I 
should  like  the  upper  berth  better.  We'll  have 
the  steward  change  the  sheets." 

"  Oh,  I'll  see  that  he  does  that,"  said  Mr. 
Triscoe.  "  I  couldn't  allow  you  to  take  any 
trouble  about  it."  He  now  looked  as  if  he 
wished  Burnamy  would  go,  and  leave  him  to 
his  domestic  arrangements. 


IN  telling  about  himself  Burnamy  only 
touched  upon  the  points  which  he  be 
lieved  would  take  his  listener's  intelligent 
fancy,  and  he  stopped  so  long  before  he  had 
tired  him  that  March  said  he  would  like  to 
introduce  him  to  his  wife.  He  saw  in  the 
agreeable  young  fellow  an  image  of  his  own 
youth,  with  some  differences  which,  he  was 
willing  to  own,  were  to  the  young  fellow's  ad 
vantage.  But  they  were  both  from  the  middle 
West ;  in  their  native  accent  and  their  local 
tradition  they  were  the  same  ;  they  were  the 
same  in  their  aspirations  ;  they  were  of  one 
blood  in  their  literary  impulse  to  externate 
their  thoughts  and  emotions. 

Burnamy  answered,  with  a  glance  at  his  en 
amelled  shoes,  that  he  would  be  delighted,  and 
when  her  husband  brought  him  up  to  her,  Mrs. 
March  said  she  was  always  glad  to  meet  the 
84 


contributors  to  the  magazine,  and  asked  him 
whether  he  knew  Mr.  Kendricks,  who  was  her 
favorite.  Without  giving  him  time  to  reply  to 
a  question  that  seemed  to  depress  him,  she  said 
that  she  had  a  son  who  must  be  nearly  his  own 
age,  and  whom  his  father  had  left  in  charge 
of  Every  OtJier  Week  for  the  few  months  they 
were  to  be  gone  ;  that  they  had  a  daughter 
married  and  living  in  Chicago.  She  made  him 
sit  down  by  her  in  March's  chair,  and  before 
he  left  them  March  heard  him  magnanimously 
asking  whether  Mr.  Kendricks  was  going  to  do 
something  more  for  the  magazine  soon.  He 
sauntered  away  and  did  not  know  how  quickly 
Burnamy  left  this  question  to  say,  with  the 
laugh  and  blush  which  became  him  in  her 
eyes  : 

"  Mrs.  March,  there  is  something  I  should  tell 
you  about,  if  you  will  let  me." 

"Why,  certainly,  Mr.  Burnamy,"  she  began, 
but  she  saw  that  he  did  not  wish  her  to  con 
tinue. 

"  Because,"  he  went  on,  "  it's  a  little  matter 
that  I  shouldn't  like  to  go  wrong  in." 

He  told  her  of  his  having  overheard  what 
Miss  Triscoe  had  said  to  her  father,  and  his 
belief  that  she  was  talking  about  the  lower 
berth.  He  said  he  would  have  wished  to  offer 
it,  of  course,  but  now  he  was  afraid  they  might 
think  he  had  overheard  them  and  felt  obliged 
to  do  it. 

85 


"I  see,"  said  Mrs.  March,  and  she  added, 
thoughtfully,  "  vShe  looks  like  rather  a  proud 
girl." 

"  Yes,"  the  young  fellow  sighed. 

"  She  is  very  charming,"  she  continued, 
thoughtfully,  but  not  so  judicially. 

"Well,"  Burnamy  owned,  "that  is  certainly 
one  of  the  complications,"  and  they  laughed 
together. 

She  stopped  herself  after  saying,  "I  see  what 
you  mean,"  and  suggested,  "  I  think  I  should 
be  guided  by  circumstances.  It  needn't  be 
done  at  once.  I  suppose." 

"Well,"  Burnamy  began,  and  then  he  broke 
out,  with  a  laugh  of  embarrassment,  "  I've 
done  it  already." 

"  Oh  !  Then  it  wasn't  my  advice  exactly 
that  you  wanted." 

"  No  "— 

"And  how  did  he  take  it?" 

"  He  said  he  should  be  glad  to  make  the  ex 
change,  if  I  really  didn't  mind."  Burnamy 
had  risen  restlessly,  and  she  did  not  ask  him 
to  stay.  She  merely  said  : 

"  Oh,  well,  I'm  glad  it  turned  out  so  nicely." 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  think  it  was  the  thing  to 
do."  He  managed  to  laugh  again,  but  he  could 
not  hide  from  her  that  he  was  not  feeling  al 
together  satisfied.  "  Would  you  like  me  to 
send  Mr.  March,  if  I  see  him  ?"  he  asked,  as  if  he 
did  not  know  on  what  other  terms  to  get  away. 
86 


"  Do,  please  !"  she  entreated,  and  it  seemed 
to  her  that  he  had  hardly  left  her  when  her 
husband  came  up.  "  Why,  where  in  the  world 
did  he  find  you  so  soon  ?" 

"Did  you  send  him  for  me?  I  was  just 
hanging  round  for  him  to  go."  March  sank 
into  the  chair  at  her  side.  "  Well,  is  he  going 
to  marry  her?" 

"Oh,  you  may  laugh!  But  there  is  some 
thing  very  exciting."  She  told  him  what  had 
happened,  and  of  her  belief  that  Burnamy's 
handsome  behavior  had  somehow  not  been  met 
in  kind. 

March  gave  himself  the  pleasure  of  an  im 
mense  laugh.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  this  Mr. 
Burnamy  of  yours  wanted  a  little  more  grati 
tude  than  he  was  entitled  to.  Why  shouldn't 
'he  have  offered  him  the  lower  berth?  And 
why  shouldn't  the  old  gentleman  have  taken 
it  just  as  he  did  ?  Did  you  want  him  to  make 
a  counter  offer  of  his  daughter's  hand  ?  If  he 
does,  I  hope  Mr.  Burnamy  won't  come  for  your 
advice  till  after  he's  accepted  her." 

"  He  wasn't  very  candid  I  hoped  you  would 
speak  about  that.  Don't  you  think  it  was 
rather  natural,  though  ?" 

"For  him,  very  likely.  But  I  think  you 
would  call  it  sinuous  in  some  one  you  hadn't 
taken  a  fancy  to." 

"No,  no.     I  wish  to  be  just.     I  don't  see  how 
he  could  have  come  straight  at  it.     And  he  did 
87 


own  up  at  last."  She  asked  him  what  Bur- 
namy  had  done  for  the  magazine,  and  he  could 
remember  nothing  but  that  one  small  poem, 
yet  imprinted  ;  he  was  rather  vague  about  its 
value,  but  said  it  had  temperament. 

"  He  has  temperament,  too,"  she  commented, 
and  she  had  made  him  tell  her  everything 
he  knew,  or  could  be  forced  to  imagine  about 
Burnamy,  before  she  let  the  talk  turn  to  other 
things. 

The  life  of  the  promenade  had  already  settled 
into  seafaring  form  ;  the  steamer  chairs  were 
full,  and  people  were  reading  or  dozing  in  them 
with  an  effect  of  long  habit.  Those  who  would 
be  walking  up  and  down  had  begun  their 
walks  ;  some  had  begun  going  in  and  out  of 
the  smoking-room  ;  ladies  who  were  easily  af 
fected  by  the  motion  were  lying  down  in  the 
music-room.  Groups  of  both  sexes  were  stand 
ing  at  intervals  along  the  rail,  and  the  prom- 
enaders  were  obliged  to  double  on  a  briefer 
course  or  work  slowly  round  them.  Shuffle- 
board  parties  at  one  point  and  ring-toss  parties 
at  another  were  forming  among  the  young 
people.  It  was  as  lively  and  it  was  as  dull  as  it 
would  be  two  thousand  miles  at  sea.  It  was 
not  the  least  cooler,  yet  ;  but  if  you  sat  still 
you  did  not  suffer. 

In  the  prompt  monotony  the  time  was  al 
ready  passing  swiftly.  The  deck  -  steward 
seemed  hardly  to  have  been  round  with  tea 
88 


and  bouillon,  and  he  had  not  yet  gathered  up 
all  the  empty  cups,  when  the  horn  for  lunch 
sounded.  It  was  the  youngest  of  the  table- 
stewards  who  gave  the  summons  to  meals  ; 
and  wherever  the  pretty  boy  appeared  with 
his  bugle,  funny  passengers  gathered  round 
him  to  make  him  laugh,  and  stop  him  from 
winding  it.  His  part  of  the  joke  was  to  fulfil 
his  duty  with  gravity,  and  only  to  give  way  to 
a  smile  of  triumph  as  he  walked  off. 


XI 


A'  lunch,  in  the  faded  excitement  of  their 
first  meeting,  the  people  at  the  Marches' 
table  did  not  renew  the  premature  in 
timacy  of  their  breakfast  talk.  Mrs.  March 
went  to  lie  down  in  her  berth  afterwards,  and 
March  went  on  deck  without  her.  He  began  to 
walk  to  and  from  the  barrier  between  the  first 
and  second  cabin  promenades  ;  lingering  near 
it,  and  musing  pensively,  for  some  of  the  people 
beyond  it  looked  as  intelligent  and  as  socially 
acceptable,  even  to  their  clothes,  as  their  pe 
cuniary  betters  of  the  saloon. 

There  were  two  women,  a  mother  and  daugh 
ter,  whom  he  fancied  to  be  teachers,  by  their 
looks,  going  out  for  a  little  rest,  or  perhaps  for 
a  little  further  study  to  fit  them  more  perfect 
ly  for  their  work.  They  gazed  wistfully  across 
at  him  whenever  he  came  up  to  the  barrier; 
and  he  feigned  a  conversation  with  them  and 
90 


tried  to  convince  them  that  the  stamp  of  in 
feriority  which  their  poverty  put  upon  them 
was  just,  or  if  not  just,  then  inevitable.  He 
argued  with  them  that  the  sort  of  barrier 
which  here  prevented  their  being  friends  with 
him,  if  they  wished  it,  ran  invisibly  through 
society  everywhere  ;  but  he  felt  ashamed  be 
fore  their  kind,  patient,  intelligent  faces,  and 
found  himself  wishing  to  excuse  the  fact  he 
was  defending.  Was  it  any  worse,  he  asked 
them,  than  their  not  being  invited  to  the  en 
tertainments  of  people  in  upper  Fifth  Avenue? 
He  made  them  own  that  if  they  were  let  across 
that  barrier  the  whole  second  cabin  would  have 
a  logical  right  to  follow  ;  and  they  were  silenced. 
But  they  continued  to  gaze  at  him  with  their 
sincere,  gentle  eyes  whenever  he  returned  to 
that  barrier  in  his  walk,  till  he  could  bear  it  no 
longer,  and  strolled  off  towards  the  steerage. 

There  was  more  reason  why  the  passengers 
there  should  be  penned  into  a  little  space  of 
their  own  in  the  sort  of  pit  made  by  the  nar 
rowing  deck  at  the  bow.  They  seemed  to  be 
all  foreigners,  and  if  any  had  made  their  fort 
unes  in  our  country  they  were  hiding  their 
prosperity  in  the  return  to  their  own.  They 
could  hardly  have  come  to  us  more  shabby  and 
squalid  than  they  were  going  away  ;  but  he 
thought  their  average  less  apathetic  than  that 
of  the  saloon  passengers,  as  he  leaned  over  the 
rail  and  looked  down  at  them.  Some  one  had 
9« 


brought  out  an  electric  battery,  and  the  lump 
ish  boys  and  slattern  girls  were  shouting  and 
laughing  as  they  writhed  with  the  current. 
A  young  mother  seated  flat  on  the  deck,  with 
her  bare  feet  stuck  out,  inattentively  nursed 
her  babe,  while  she  laughed  and  shouted  with 
the  rest  ;  a  man  with  his  head  tied  in  a  shawl 
walked  about  the  pen  and  smiled  grotesquely 
with  the  well  side  of  his  toothache-swollen  face. 
The  owner  of  the  battery  carried  it  away,  and 
a  group  of  little  children,  with  blue  eyes  and 
yellow  hair,  gathered  in  the  space  he  had  left, 
and  looked  up  at  a  passenger  eating  some 
plums  and  cherries  which  he  had  brought  from 
the  luncheon  table.  He  began  to  throw  the 
fruit  down  to  them,  and  the  children  scram 
bled  for  it. 

An  elderly  man,  with  a  thin,  grave,  aquiline 
face,  said,  "I  shouldn't  want  a  child  of  mine 
down  there." 

"No,"  March  responded,  "it  isn't  quite  what 
one  would  choose  for  one's  own.  It's  astonish 
ing,  though,  how  we  reconcile  ourselves  to  it 
in  the  case  of  others." 

"  I  suppose  it's  something  we'll  have  to  get 
used  to  on  the  other  side,"  suggested  the 
stranger. 

"Well,"  answered  March,  "you  have  some 
opportunities  to  get  used  to  it  on  this  side,  if 
you  happen  to  live  in  New  York,"  and  he  went 
on  to  speak  of  the  raggedness  which  often 


penetrated  the  frontier  of  comfort  where  he 
lived  in  Stuyvesant  Square,  and  which  seemed 
as  glad  of  largesse  in  food  or  money  as  this 
poverty  of  the  steerage. 

The  other  listened  restively  like  a  man 
whose  ideals  are  disturbed.  "  I  don't  believe 
I  should  like  to  live  in  New  York,  much,"  he 
said,  and  March  fancied  that  he  wished  to  be 
asked  where  he  did  live.  It  appeared  that  he 
lived  in  Ohio,  and  he  named  his  town  ;  he  did 
not  brag  of  it,  but  he  said  it  suited  him.  He 
added  that  he  had  never  expected  to  go  to 
Europe,  but  that  he  had  begun  to  run  down 
lately,  and  his  doctor  thought  he  had  better 
go  out  and  try  Carlsbad. 

March  said,  to  invite  his  further  confidence, 
that  this  was  exactly  his  own  case.  The  Ohio 
man  met  the  overture  from  a  common  in- 
validism  as  if  it  detracted  from  his  own  dis 
tinction  ;  and  he  turned  to  speak  of  the  diffi 
culty  he  had  in  arranging  his  affairs  for  leav 
ing  home.  His  heart  opened  a  little  with  the 
word,  and  he  said  how  comfortable  he  and  his 
wife  were  in  their  house,  and  how  much  they 
both  hated  to  shut  it  up.  When  March  offered 
him  his  card,  he  said  he  had  none  of  his  own 
with  him,  but  that  his  name  was  Eltwin.  He 
betrayed  a  simple  wish  to  have  March  realize 
the  local  importance  he  had  left  behind  him  ; 
and  it  was  not  hard  to  comply  ;  March  saw  a 
Grand  Army  button  in  the  lapel  of  his  coat, 
93 


and  he  knew  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of 
a  veteran. 

He  tried  to  guess  his  rank,  in  telling  his  wife 
about  him,  when  he  went  down  to  find  her 
just  before  dinner,  but  he  ended  with  a  certain 
sense  of  affliction.  "  There  are  too  many  elderly 
invalids  on  this  ship.  I  knock  against  people 
of  my  own  age  everywhere.  Why  aren't  your 
youthful  lovers  more  in  evidence,  my  dear  ?  I 
don't  believe  they  are  lovers,  and  I  begin  to 
doubt  if  they're  young,  even." 

"  It  wasn't  very  satisfactory  at  lunch,  cer 
tainly,"  she  owned.  "  But  I  know  it  will  be 
different  at  dinner."  She  was  putting  herself 
together  after  a  nap  that  had  made  up  for  the 
lost  sleep  of  the  night  before.  "  I  want  you  to 
look  very  nice,  dear.  Shall  you  dress  for  din 
ner?"  she  asked  her  husband's  image  in  the 
state-room  glass,  which  she  was  preoccupying. 

"  I  shall  dress  in  my  pea-jacket  and  sea- 
boots,"  it  answered. 

"  I  have  heard  they  always  dress  for  dinner 
on  the  big  Cunard  and  White  Star  boats,  when 
it's  good  weather,"  she  went  on,  placidly.  "  I 
shouldn't  want  those  people  to  think  you  were 
not  up  in  the  convenances." 

They  both  knew  that  she  meant  the  reticent 
father  and  daughter,  and  March  flung  out,  "  I 
shouldn't  want  them  to  think  you  weren't. 
There's  such  a  thing  as  overdoing." 

She  attacked  him  at  another  point.  "What 
94 


has  annoyed  you  ?  What  else  have  you  been 
doing?" 

"  Nothing.  I've  been  reading  most  of  the 
afternoon." 

"  The  Maiden  Knight  ?" 

This  was  the  book  which  nearly  everybody 
had  brought  on  board.  It  was  just  out,  and 
had  caught  an  instant  favor,  which  swelled 
later  to  a  tidal  wave.  It  depicted  a,  heroic 
girl  in  every  trying  circumstance  of  mediaeval 
life,  and  gratified  the  perennial  passion  of  both 
sexes  for  historical  romance,  while  it  flattered 
woman's  instinct  of  superiority  by  the  celebra 
tion  of  her  unintermitted  triumphs,  ending 
in  a  preposterous  and  wholly  superfluous  self- 
sacrifice. 

March  laughed  for  pleasure  in  her  guess, 
and  she  pursued,  "  I  suppose  you  didn't  waste 
time  looking  if  anybody  had  brought  the  last 
copy  of  Every  Other  Week  ?" 

"Yes,  I  did;  and  I  found  the  one  you  had 
left  in  your  steamer  chair  —  for  advertising 
purposes,  probably." 

"  Mr.  Burnamy  has  another,"  she  said.  "  I 
saw  it  sticking  out  of  his  pocket  this  morn 
ing." 

"  Oh  yes.  He  told  me  he  had  got  it  on  the 
train  from  Chicago  to  see  if  it  had  his  poem  in 
it.  He's  an  ingenuous  soul — in  some  ways." 

"  Well,  that  is  the  very  reason  why  you 
ought  to  find  out  whether  the  men  are  going 
95 


to  dress,  and  let  him  know.  He  would  never 
think  of  it  himself." 

"Neither  would  I,"  said  her  husband. 

"Very  well,  if  you  wish  to  spoil  his  chance 
at  the  outset,"  she  sighed. 

She  did  not  quite  know  whether  to  be  glad 
or  not  that  the  men  were  all  in  sacks  and  cut 
aways  at  dinner  ;  it  saved  her  from  shame  for 
her  husband  and  Mr.  Burnamy  ;  but  it  put  her 
in  the  wrong.  Every  one  talked  ;  even  the 
father  and  daughter  talked  with  each  other, 
and  at  one  moment  Mrs.  March  could  not  be 
quite  sure  that  the  daughter  had  not  looked  at 
her  when  she  spoke.  She  could  not  be  mis 
taken  in  the  remark  which  the  father  ad 
dressed  to  Burnamy,  though  it  led  to  nothing. 


XII 


THE  dinner  was  uncommonly  good,  as  the 
first  dinner  out  is  apt  to  be  ;  and  it  went 
gayly  on  from  soup  to  fruit,  which  was 
of  the  American  abundance  and  variety,  and 
as  yet  not  of  the  veteran  freshness  imparted 
by  the  ice-closet.  Everybody  was  eating  it, 
when  by  a  common  consciousness  they  were 
aware  of  alien  witnesses.  They  looked  up  as 
by  a  single  impulse,  and  saw  at  the  port  the 
gaunt  face  of  a  steerage  passenger  staring 
down  upon  their  luxury  ;  he  held  on  his  arm  a 
child  that  shared  his  regard  with  yet  hungrier 
eyes.  A  boy's  nose  showed  itself  as  if  tiptoed 
to  the  height  of  the  man's  elbow ;  a  young  girl 
peered  over  his  other  arm. 

The  passengers  glanced  at  one  another  :  the 
two  table-stewards,  with  their  napkins  in  their 
hands,  smiled  vaguely,  and  made  some  indefi 
nite  movements. 

G  97 


The  bachelor  at  the  head  of  the  table  broke 
the  spell.  "I'm  glad  it  didn't  begin  with  the 
Little  Neck  clams  !" 

"  Probably  they  only  let  them  come  for  the 
dessert,"  March  suggested. 

The  widow  now  followed  the  direction  of  the 
other  eyes,  and  looked  up  over  her  shoulder ; 
she  gave  a  little  cry,  and  shrank  down.  The 
young  bride  made  her  petted  mouth,  in  appeal 
to  the  company  ;  her  husband  looked  severe, 
as  if  he  were  going  to  do  something,  but  re 
frained,  not  to  make  a  scene.  The  reticent 
father  threw  one  of  his  staccato  glances  at  the 
port,  and  Mrs.  March  was  sure  that  she  saw  the 
daughter  steal  a  look  at  Burnamy. 

The  young  fellow  laughed.  "  I  don't  suppose 
there's  anything  to  be  done  about  it,  unless  we 
passed  out  a  plate." 

Mr.  Kenby  shook  his  head.  "  It  wouldn't  do. 
We  might  send  for  the  captain.  Or  the  chief 
steward." 

The  faces  at  the  port  vanished.  At  other 
ports  profiles  passed  and  repassed,  as  if  the 
steerage  passengers  had  their  promenade  under 
them,  but  they  paused  no  more. 

The  Marches  went  up  to  their  steamer  chairs, 
and  from  her  exasperated  nerves  Mrs.  March 
denounced  the  arrangement  of  the  ship  which 
had  made  such  a  cruel  thing  possible. 

"  Oh,"  he  mocked,  "  they  had  probably  had 
a  good  substantial  meal  of  their  own,  and  the 


scene  of  our  banquet  was  of  the  quality  of  a 
picture,  a  purely  aesthetic  treat.  But  suppos 
ing  it  wasn't,  we're  doing  something  like  it 
every  day  and  every  moment  of  our  lives.  The 
Norumbia  is  a  piece  of  the  whole  world's  civil 
ization  set  afloat,  and  passing  from  shore  to 
shore  with  unchanged  classes  and  conditions. 
A  ship's  merely  a  small  stage,  where  we're 
brought  to  close  quarters  with  the  daily  drama 
of  humanity." 

"Well,  then,"  she  protested,  "I  don't  like 
being  brought  to  close  quarters  with  the  daily 
drama  of  humanity,  as  you  call  it.  And  I  don't 
believe  that  the  large  English  ships  are  built 
so  that  the  steerage  passengers  can  stare  in  at 
the  saloon  windows  while  one  is  eating  ;  and 
I'm  sorry  we  came  on  the  Norumbia." 

"Ah,  you  think  the  Norumbia  doesn't  hide 
anything,"  he  began,  and  he  was  going  to  speak 
of  the  men  in  the  furnace  pits  of  the  steamer, 
how  they  f  "d  the  fires  in  a  welding  heat,  and 
as  if  they  had  perished  in  it  crept  out  on  the 
forecastle  like  blanched  phantasms  of  toil ;  but 
she  interposed  in  time. 

"  If  there's  anything  worse,  for  pity's  sake 
don't  tell  me." 

He  sat  thinking  how  once  the  world  had  not 
seemed  to  have  even  death  in  it,  and  then  how 
as  he  had  grown  older  death  had  come  into 
it  more  and  more,  and  suffering  was  lurking 
everywhere,  and  could  hardly  be  kept  out  of 
99 


sight.  He  wondered  if  that  young  Burnamy 
now  saw  the  world  as  he  used  to  see  it,  a  place 
for  making  verse  and  making  love,  and  full  of 
beauty  of  all  kinds  waiting  to  be  fitted  with 
phrases.  He  had  lived  a  happy  life  ;  Burnamy 
would  be  lucky  if  he  should  live  one  half  as 
happy  ;  and  yet  if  he  could  show  htm  his  whole 
happy  life,  just  as  it  had  truly  been,  must  not 
the  young  man  shrink  from  such  a  picture  of 
his  future  ? 

"  Say  something  !"  said  his  wife.  "  What 
are  you  thinking  about  ?" 

"  Oh,  Burnamy,"  he  answered,  honestly 
enough. 

"  I  was  thinking  about  the  children,"  she 
said.  "  I  am  glad  Bella  didn't  try  to  come 
from  Chicago  to  see  us  off ;  it  would  have  been 
too  silly  ;  she  is  getting  to  be  very  sensible.  I 
hope  Tom  won't  take  the  covers  off  the  furni 
ture  when  he  has  fellows  in  to  see  him." 

"Well,  I  want  him  to  get  all  the  comfort  he 
can  out  of  the  place,  even  if  the  moths  eat  up 
every  stick  of  furniture." 

"  Yes,  so  do  I.  And  of  course  you're  wishing 
that  you  were  there  with  him  !"  March 
laughed,  guiltily.  "Well,  perhaps  it  was  a 
crazy  thing  for  us  to  start  off  alone  for  Europe, 
at  our  age." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  retorted  in  the 
necessity  he  perceived  for  staying  her  droop 
ing  spirits.  "  I  wouldn't  be  anywhere  else  on 
100 


any  account.  Isn't  it  perfectly  delicious?  It 
puts  me  in  mind  of  that  night  on  the  Lake  On 
tario  boat,  when  we  were  starting  for  Montreal. 
There  was  the  same  sort  of  red  sunset,  and  the 
air  wasn't  a  bit  softer  than  this." 

He  spoke  of  a  night  on  their  wedding-jour 
ney  when  they  were  still  new  enough  from 
Europe  to  be  comparing  everything  at  home 
with  things  there. 

"  Well,  perhaps  we  shall  get  into  the  spirit 
of  it  again,"  she  said,  and  they  talked  a  long 
time  of  the  past. 

All  the  mechanical  noises  were  muffled  in 
the  dull  air,  and  the  wash  of  the  ship's  course 
through  the  waveless  sea  made  itself  pleasant 
ly  heard.  In  the  offing  a  steamer  homeward 
bound  swam  smoothly  by,  so  close  that  her 
lights  outlined  her  to  the  eye  ;  she  sent  up 
some  signal  rockets  that  soared  against  the 
purple  heaven  in  green  and  crimson,  and  spoke 
to  the  Norumbia  in  the  mysterious  mute 
phrases  of  ships  that  meet  in  the  dark. 

Mrs.  March  wondered  what  had  become  of 
Burnamy  ;  the  promenades  were  much  freer 
now  than  they  had  been  since  the  ship  sailed ; 
when  she  rose  to  go  below,  she  caught  sight  of 
him  walking  the  deck  transversely  with  some 
lady.  She  clutched  her  husband's  arm  and 
stayed  him  in  rich  conjecture. 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  can  have  got  her  to 
walking  with  him  already?" 

101 


They  waited  till  Burnamy  and  his  companion 
came  in  sight  again.  She  was  tilting  forward, 
and  turning  from  the  waist,  now  to  him  and 
now  from  him. 

"  No  ;  it's  that  pivotal  girl,"  said  March  ;  and 
his  wife  said,  "Well,  I'm  glad  he  won't  be  put 
down  by  them." 

In  the  music-room  sat  the  people  she  meant, 
and  at  the  instant  she  passed  on  down  the 
stairs,  the  daughter  was  saying  to  the  father, 
"I  don't  see  why  you  didn't  tell  me  sooner, 
papa." 

"It  was  such  an  unimportant  matter  that  I 
didn't  think  to  mention  it.  He  offered  it,  and 
I  took  it ;  that  was  all.  What  difference  could 
it  have  made  to  you?" 

"None.  But  one  doesn't  like  to  do  any  one 
an  injustice." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  thinking  anything 
about  it." 

"  No,  of  course  not." 


ll 


XIII 

THE  voyage  of  the  Nonunbia  was  one  of 
those  which  passengers  say  they  have 
never  seen  anything  like,  though  for  the 
first  two  or  three  days  out  neither  the  doctor 
nor  the  deck-steward  could  be  got  to  prophesy 
when  the  ship  would  be  in.  There  was  only 
a  day  or  two  when  it  could  really  be  called 
rough,  and  the  sea-sickness  was  confined  to 
those  who  seemed  wilful  sufferers  ;  they  lay 
on  the  cushioned  benching  around  the  stairs- 
landings  and  subsisted  on  biscuit  and  beef-tea 
without  qualifying  the  monotonous  well-being 
of  the  other  passengers,  who  passed  without 
noticing  them. 

The  second  morning  there  was  rain,  and  the 
air  freshened,  but  the  leaden  sea  lay  level  as  be 
fore.  The  sun  shone  in  the  afternoon  ;  with 
the  sunset  the  fog  came  thick  and  white  ;  the 
ship  lowed  dismally  through  the  night ;  from 
103 


the  dense  folds  of  the  mist  answering  noises 
called  back  to  her.  Just  before  dark  two  men 
in  a  dory  shouted  up  to  her  close  under  her 
bows,  and  then  melted  out  of  sight ;  when  the 
dark  fell  the  lights  of  fishing-schooners  were 
seen,  and  their  bells  pealed;  once  loud  cries 
from  a  vessel  near  at  hand  made  themselves 
heard.  Some  people  in  the  dining-saloon  sang 
hymns;  the  smoking-room  was  dense  with 
cigar  fumes,  and  the  card-players  dealt  their 
hands  in  an  atmosphere  emulous  of  the  fog 
without. 

The  Norumbia  was  off  the  Banks,  and  the 
second  day  of  fog  was  cold  as  if  icebergs  were 
haunting  the  opaque  pallor  around  her.  In 
the  ranks  of  steamer  chairs  people  lay  like 
mummies  in  their  dense  wrappings  ;  in  the 
music-room  the  little  children  of  travel  dis 
cussed  the  different  lines  of  steamers  on  which 
they  had  crossed,  and  babes  of  five  and  seven 
disputed  about  the  motion  on  the  Cunarders 
and  White  Stars  ;  their  nurses  tried  in  vain  to 
still  them  in  behalf  of  older  passengers  trying 
to  write  letters  there. 

By  the  next  morning  the  ship  had  run  out  of 
the  fog,  and  people  who  could  keep  their  feet 
said  they  were  glad  of  the  greater  motion  which 
they  found  beyond  the  Banks.  They  now 
talked  of  the  heat  of  the  first  days  out,  and 
how  much  they  had  suffered  ;  some  who  had 
passed  the  night  on  board  before  sailing'tried 
104 


to  impart  a  sense  of  their  misery  in  trying  to 
sleep. 

A  day  or  two  later  a  storm  struck  the  ship, 
and  the  sailors  stretched  canvas  along  the 
weather  promenade  and  put  up  a  sheathing  of 
boards  across  the  bow  end  to  keep  off  the  rain. 
Yet  a  day  or  two  more  and  the  sea  had  fallen 
again,  and  there  was  dancing  on  the  widest 
space  of  the  lee  promenade. 

The  little  events  of  the  sea  outside  the 
steamer  offered  themselves  in  their  poor  va 
riety.  Once  a  ship  in  the  offing,  with  all  its 
square  sails  set,  lifted  them  like  three  white 
towers  from  the  deep.  On  the  rim  of  the 
ocean  the  length  of  some  westward  liner  blocked 
itself  out  against  the  horizon,  and  swiftly 
trailed  its  smoke  out  of  sight.  A  few  tramp 
steamers,  lounging  and  lunging  through  the 
trough  of  the  sea,  were  overtaken  and  left  be 
hind  ;  an  old  brigantine  passed  so  close  that 
her  rusty  iron  sides  showed  plain,  and  one 
could  discern  the  faces  of  the  people  on  board. 

The  steamer  was  oftenest  without  the  sign 
of  any  life  beyond  her.  One  day  a  small  bird 
beat  the  air  with  its  little  wings,  under  the 
roof  of  the  promenade,  and  then  flittered  from 
sight  over  the  surface  of  the  waste  ;  a  school 
of  porpoises,  stiff,  and  wooden  in  their  rise, 
plunged  clumsily  from  wave  to  wave.  The 
deep  itself  had  sometimes  the  unreality,  the 
artificiality  of  the  canvas  sea  of  the  theatre. 
107 


Commonly  it  was  livid  and  cold  in  color  ;  but 
there  was  a  morning  when  it  was  delicately 
misted,  and  where  the  mist  left  it  clear,  it  was 
blue,  and  exquisitely  iridescent  under  the  pale 
sun  ;  the  wrinkled  waves  were  finely  pitted  by 
the  falling  spray.  These  were  rare  moments  ; 
mostly,  when  it  was  not  like  painted  canvas, 
it  was  hard  like  black  rock,  with  surfaces  of 
smooth  cleavage.  Where  it  met  the  sky  it  lay 
flat  and  motionless,  or  in  the  rougher  weather 
carved  itself  along  the  horizon  in  successions 
of  surges. 

If  the  sun  rose  clear,  it  was  overcast  in  a 
few  hours  ;  then  the  clouds  broke  and  let  a 
little  sunshine  through,  to  close  again  before 
the  dim  evening  thickened  over  the  waters. 
Sometimes  the  moon  looked  through  the  rag 
ged  curtain  of  vapors  ;  one  night  it  seemed  to 
shine  till  morning,  and  shook  a  path  of  quick 
silver  from  the  horizon  to  the  ship.  Through 
every  change,  after  she  had  left  the  fog  behind, 
the  steamer  drove  on  with  the  pulse  of  her 
engines  (that  stopped  no  more  than  a  man's 
heart  stops)  in  a  course  which  had  nothing  to 
mark  it  but  the  spread  of  the  furrows  from  her 
sides,  and  the  wake  that  foamed  from  her  stern 
to  the  western  verge  of  the  sea. 

The  life  of  the  ship,  like  the  life  of  the  sea, 

was  a  sodden  monotony  with   certain   events 

which   were   part   of   the    monotony.     In    the 

morning  the  little  steward's  bugle  called  the 

1 08 


"STOOD    IN    THE    WAY    OK    THOSE    WALKING    UP    AND    DOWN" 


1 


passengers  from  their  dreams,  and  half  an 
hour  later  called  them  to  their  breakfast,  after 
such  as  chose  had  been  served  with  coffee  by 
their  bedroom-stewards.  Then  they  went  on 
deck,  where  they  read,  or  dozed  in  their  chairs, 
or  walked  up  and  down,  or  stood  in  the  way  of 
those  who  were  walking  ;  or  played  shuffle- 
board  and  ring-toss  ;  or  smoked,  and  drank 
whiskey  and  aerated  waters  over  their  cards 
and  papers  in  the  smoking-room  ;  or  wrote  let 
ters  in  the  saloon  or  the  music-room.  At  eleven 
o'clock  they  spoiled  their  appetites  for  lunch 
with  tea  or  bouillon  to  the  music  of  a  band  of 
second-cabin  stewards  ;  at  one,  a  single  blast 
of  the  bugle  called  them  to  lunch,  where  they 
glutted  themselves  to  the  torpor  from  which 
they  afterwards  drowsed  in  their  berths  or 
chairs.  They  did  the  same  things  in  the  after 
noon  that  they  had  done  in  the  forenoon  ;  and 
at  four  o'clock  the  deck-stewards  came  round 
with  their  cups  and  saucers,  and  their  plates 
of  sandwiches,  again  to  the  music  of  the  band. 
There  were  two  bugle -calls  for  dinner,  and 
after  dinner  some  went  early  to  bed,  and  some 
sat  up  late  and  had  grills  and  toast.  At  twelve 
the  lights  were  put  out  in  the  saloons  and  the 
smoking-rooms. 

There  were  various  smells  which  stored 
themselves  up  in  the  consciousness  to  remain 
lastingly  relative  to  certain  moments  and 
places  :  a  whiff  of  whiskey  and  tobacco  that 


exhaled  from  the  door  of  the  smoking-room  ; 
the  odor  of  oil  and  steam  rising  from  the  open 
skylights  over  the  engine-room  ;  the  scent  of 
stale  bread  about  the  doors  of  the  dining-saloon. 

The  life  was  like  the  life  at  a  sea-side  hotel, 
only  more  monotonous.  The  walking  was  lim 
ited  ;  the  talk  was  the  tentative  talk  of  people 
aware  that  there  was  no  refuge  if  they  got 
tired  of  one  another.  The  flirting,  such  as 
there  was  of  it,  must  be  carried  on  in  the 
glare  of  the  pervasive  publicity  ;  it  must  be 
crude  and  bold,  or  not  be  at  all. 

There  seemed  to  be  very  little  of  it.  There 
were  not  many  young  people  on  board  of 
saloon  quality,  and  these  were  mostly  girls. 
The  young  men  were  mainly  of  the  smoking- 
room  sort ;  they  seldom  risked  themselves 
among  the  steamer  chairs.  It  was  gayer  in 
the  second  cabin,  and  gayer  yet  in  the  steerage, 
where  robuster  emotions  were  operated  by  the 
accordion.  The  passengers  there  danced  to  its 
music  ;  they  sang  to  it  and  laughed  to  it  un 
abashed  under  the  eyes  of  the  first-cabin  wit 
nesses,  clustered  along  the  rail  above  the  pit 
where  they  took  their  rude  pleasures. 

With  March  it  came  to  his  spending  many 
hours  of  each  long,  swift  day  in  his  berth  with 
a  book  under  the  convenient  electric  light. 
He  was  safe  there  from  the  acquaintances 
which  constantly  formed  themselves  only  to 
fall  into  disintegration,  and  cling  to  him  after- 


wards  as  inorganic  particles  of  salutation, 
weather -guessing,  and  smoking-room  gossip 
about  the  ship's  run. 

In  the  earliest  hours  of  the  voyage  he 
thought  that  he  saw  some  faces  of  the  great 
world,  the  world  of  wealth  and  fashion  ;  but 
these  afterwards  vanished,  and  left  him  to 
wonder  where  they  hid  themselves.  He  did 
not  meet  them  even  in  going  to  and  from  his 
meals  ;  he  could  only  imagine  them  served  in 
those  palatial  state-rooms  whose  interiors  the 
stewards  now  and  then  rather  obtruded  upon 
the  public.  There  were  people  whom  he  en 
countered  in  the  promenades  when  he  got  up 
for  the  sunrise,  and  whom  he  never  saw  at 
other  times  ;  at  midnight  he  met  men  prowl 
ing  in  the  dark  whom  he  never  met  by  day. 
But  none  of  these  were  people  of  the  great 
world.  Before  six  o'clock  they  were  some 
times  second-cabin  passengers,  whose  barrier 
was  then  lifted  for  a  little  while  to  give  them 
the  freedom  of  the  saloon  promenade. 

From  time  to  time  he  thought  he  would  look 
up  his  Ohioan,  and  revive  from  a  closer  study  of 
him  his  interest  in  the  rare  American  who  had 
never  been  to  Europe.  But  the  old  man  kept 
with  his  elderly  wife,  who  had  the  effect  of  with 
holding  him  from  March's  advances.  Young 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leffers  threw  off  more  and  more 
their  disguise  of  a  long-married  pair,  and  be 
came  frankly  bride  and  groom.  They  seldom 


talked  with  any  one  else,  except  at  table ; 
they  walked  up  and  down  together,  smiling 
into  each  other's  faces  ;  they  sat  side  by  side 
in  their  steamer  chairs :  one  shawl  covered 
them  both,  and  there  was  reason  to  believe 
that  they  were  holding  each  other's  hands 
under  it. 

Mrs.  Adding  often  took  the  chair  beside 
Mrs.  March  when  her  husband  was  straying 
about  the  ship  or  reading  in  his  berth  ;  and 
the  two  ladies  must  have  exchanged  autobiog 
raphies,  for  Mrs.  March  was  able  to  tell  him 
just  how  long  Mrs.  Adding  had  been  a  widow, 
what  her  husband  died  of,  and  what  had  been 
done  to  save  him  ;  how  she  was  now  perfectly 
wrapped  up  in  her  boy,  and  was  taking  him 
abroad,  with  some  notion  of  going  to  Switzer 
land,  after  the  summer's  travel,  and  settling 
down  with  him  at  school  there.  She  and  Mrs. 
March  became  great  friends  ;  and  Rose,  as  his 
mother  called  him,  attached  himself  reverently 
to  March,  not  only  as  a  celebrity  of  the  first 
grade  in  his  quality  of  editor  of  Every  Other 
Week,  but  as  a  sage  of  wisdom  and  goodness 
with  whom  he  must  not  lose  the  chance  of 
counsel  upon  almost  every  hypothesis  and  exi 
gency  of  life. 

March  could  not  bring  himself  to  place  Bur- 
namy  quite  where  he  belonged  in  contempo 
rary  literature,  when  Rose  put  him  very  high 
in  virtue  of  the  poem  which  he  heard  Burnamy 
114 


> 


THERE  WAS   EVERY  REASON  TO   BELIEVE  THAT  THEY   WERE 
HOLDING   EACH    OTHER'S    HAND  " 


was  going  to  have  printed  in  Every  Other  Week, 
and  of  the  book  which  he  was  going  to  have 
published  ;  and  he  let  the  boy  bring  to  the 
young  fellow  the  flattery  which  can  come  to 
any  author  but  once,  in  the  first  request  for  his 
autograph  that  Burnamy  confessed  to  have 
had.  They  were  so  near  in  age,  though  they 
were  ten  years  apart,  that  Rose  stood  much 
more  in  awe  of  Burnamy  than  of  others  much 
more  his  seniors.  He  was  often  in  the  com 
pany  of  Kenby,  whom  he  valued  next  to  March 
as  a  person  acquainted  with  men  ;  he  consulted 
March  upon  Kenby's  practice  of  always  taking 
up  the  language  of  the  country  he  visited,  if  it 
were  only  for  a  fortnight;  and  he  conceived  a 
higher  opinion  of  him  for  March's  approval. 

Burnamy  was  most  with  Mrs.  March,  who 
made  him  talk  about  himself  when  he  sup 
posed  he  was  talking  about  literature,  in  the 
hope  that  she  could  get  him  to  talk  about  the 
Triscoes  ;  but  she  listened  in  vain  as  he  poured 
out  his  soul  in  theories  of  literary  art,  and  in 
histories  of  what  he  had  written  and  what 
he  meant  to  write.  When  he  passed  them 
where  they  sat  together,  March  heard  the 
young  fellow's  perpetually  recurring  I,  I,  I,  my, 
my,  my,  me,  me,  me  ;  and  smiled  to  think  how 
she  was  suffering  under  the  drip-drip  of  his  in 
nocent  egotism. 

She  bore  in  a  sort  of  scientific  patience  with 
his  attentions  to  the  pivotal  girl,  and  with  Miss 
117 


Triscoe's  indifference  to  him,  in  which  a  less 
penetrating  scrutiny  could  have  detected  no 
change  from  meal  to  meal.  It  was  only  at 
table  that  she  could  see  them  together,  or  that 
she  could  note  any  break  in  the  reserve  of  the 
father  and  daughter.  The  signs  of  this  were 
so  fine  that  when  she  reported  them  March 
laughed  in  scornful  incredulity.  But  at  break 
fast  the  third  day  out,  the  Triscoes,  with  the 
authority  of  people  accustomed  to  social  con 
sideration,  suddenly  turned  to  the  Marches, 
and  began  to  make  themselves  agreeable  ;  the 
father  spoke  to  March  of  Every  Other  Week, 
which  he  seemed  to  know  of  in  its  relation  to 
him  ;  and  the  young  girl  addressed  herself  to 
Mrs.  March's  motherly  sense  not  the  less  ac 
ceptably  because  indirectly.  She  spoke  of  go 
ing  out  with  her  father  for  an  indefinite  time, 
as  if  it  were  rather  his  wish  than  hers,  and  she 
made  some  inquiries  about  places  in  Germany  : 
they  had  never  been  in  Germany.  They  had 
some  idea  of  Dresden  ;  but  the  idea  of  Dresden 
with  its  American  colony  seemed  rather  tire 
some  ;  and  did  Mrs.  March  know  anything 
about  Weimar  ? 

Mrs.  March  was  obliged  to  say  that  she  knew 
nothing  about  any  place  in  Germany  ;  and  she 
explained  perhaps  too  fully  where  and  why  she 
was  going  with  her  husband.  She  fancied  a 
Boston  note  in  that  scorn  for  the  tiresome 
ness  of  Dresden  ;  but  the  girl's  style  was  of 
118 


A   DECK   STEWARD 


New  York  rather  than  of  Boston,  and  her  ac 
cent  was  not  quite  of  either  place.  Mrs.  March 
began  to  try  the  Triscoes  in  this  place  and  in 
that,  to  divine  them  and  to  class  them.  She 
had  decided  from  the  first  that  they  were 
society  people,  but  they  were  cultivated  be 
yond  the  average  of  the  few  swells  whom  she 
had  met ;  and  there  had  been  nothing  offensive 
in  their  manner  of  holding  themselves  aloof 
from  the  other  people  at  the  table  ;  they  had  a 
right  to  do  that  if  they  chose. 

When  the  young  Lefferses  came  in  to  break 
fast,  the  talk  went  on  between  these  and  the 
Marches  ;  the  Triscoes  presently  left  the  table, 
and  Mrs.  March  rose  soon  after,  eager  for  that 
discussion  of  their  behavior  which  March  knew 
he  would  not  be  able  to  postpone.  He  agreed 
with  her  that  they  were  society  people,  but 
she  could  not  at  once  accept  his  theory  that 
they  had  themselves  been  the  objects  of  an 
advance  from  them  because  of  their  neutral 
literary  quality,  through  which  they  were  of 
no  social  world.  Later  she  admitted  this,  as 
she  said,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  though 
what  she  wanted  him  to  see,  now,  was  that 
this  was  all  a  step  of  the  girl's  towards  finding 
out  something  about  Burnamy. 

The  same  afternoon,  about  the  time  the 
deck-steward  was  making  his  round  with  his 
cups,  Miss  Triscoe  abruptly  advanced  upon 
her  from  a  neighboring  corner  of  the  bulk- 

121 


head,  and  asked,  with  the  air  of  one  accus 
tomed  to  have  her  advances  gratefully  re 
ceived,  if  she  might  sit  by  her.  The  girl  took 
March's  vacant  chair,  where  she  had  her  cup 
of  bouillon,  which  she  continued  to  hold  un- 
tasted  in  her  hand  after  the  first  sip.  Mrs. 
March  did  the  same  with  hers,  and  at  the  mo 
ment  she  had  got  very  tired  of  doing  it  Bur- 
namy  came  by,  for  the  hundredth  time  that  day, 
and  gave  her  a  hundredth  bow  with  a  hundredth 
smile.  He  perceived  that  she  wished  to  get 
rid  of  her  cup,  and  he  sprang  to  her  relief. 

"  May  I  take  yours,  too?"  he  said  very  pas 
sively  to  Miss  Triscoe. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  she  answered,  and 
gave  it. 

Mrs.  March  with  a  casual  air  suggested,  "  Do 
you  know  Mr.  Burnamy,  Miss  Triscoe  ?"  The 
girl  said  a  few  civil  things,  but  Burnamy  did 
not  try  to  make  talk  with  her  while  he  re 
mained  a  few  moments  before  Mrs.  March. 
The  pivotal  girl  came  in  sight,  tilting  and 
turning  in  a  rare  moment  of  isolation  at  the 
corner  of  the  music-room,  and  he  bowed  ab 
ruptly,  and  hurried  off  to  join  her. 

Miss  Triscoe  did  not  linger  ;  she  alleged  the 
necessity  of  looking  up  her  father,  and  went 
away  with  a  smile  so  friendly  that  Mrs.  March 
might  easily  have  construed  it  to  mean  that 
no  blame  attached  itself  to  her  in  Miss  Tris- 
coe's  mind. 


"  Then  you  don't  feel  that  it  was  a  very  dis 
tinct  success?"  her  husband  asked  on  his  re 
turn. 

"Not  on  the  surface,"  she  said. 

"  Better  let  ill  enough  alone,"  he  advised. 

She  did  not  heed  him.  "All  the  same  she 
cares  for  him.  The  very  fact  that  she  was  so 
cold  shows  that." 

"  And  do  you  think  her  being  cold  will  make 
him  care  for  her  ?" 

"  If  she  wants  it  to. 


XIV 


AT  dinner  that  day  the  question  of  Tlic 
Maiden  Knight  was  debated  among  the 
noises  and  silences  of  the  band.  Young 
Mrs.  Leffers  had  brought  the  book  to  the  table 
with  her  ;  she  said  she  had  not  been  able  to 
lay  it  down  before  the  last  horn  sounded  ;  in 
fact,  she  could  have  been  seen  reading  it  to 
her  husband,  where  they  sat  under  the  same 
shawl,  the  whole  afternoon.  "  Don't  you  think 
it's  perfectly  fascinating?"  she  asked  Mrs.  Ad 
ding,  with  her  petted  mouth. 

"  Well,"  said  the  widow,  doubtfully,  "  it's 
nearly  a  week  since  I  read  it,  and  I've  had 
time  to  get  over  the  glow." 

"Oh,  I  could  just  read  it  forever  !"  the  bride 
exclaimed. 

"I  like  a  book."  said  her  husband,  "that 
takes  me  out  of  myself.  I  don't  want  to  think 
when  I'm  reading." 

124 


March  was  going  to  attack  this  ideal,  but  he 
reflected  in  time  that  Mr.  Leffers  had  really 
stated  his  own  motive  in  reading.  He  com 
promised.  "Well,  I  like  the  author  to  do  my 
thinking  for  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  that  is  what  I  mean." 

"  The  question  is  whether  TJic  Maiden 
Knigkt  fellow  does  it,"  said  Kenby,  taking  duck 
and  pease  from  the  steward  at  his  shoulder. 

"What  my  wife  likes  in  it  is  to  see  what  one 
woman  can  do  and  be,  single-handed,"  said 
March. 

"No,"  his  wife  corrected  him.  ''what  a  man 
thinks  she  can." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Triscoe,  unexpectedly, 
"that  we're  like  the  English  in  oiir  habit  of 
going  off  about  a  book  like  a  train  of  powder." 

"  If  you'll  say  a  row  of  bricks,"  March  as 
sented,  "  I'll  agree  with  you.  It's  certainly 
Anglo-Saxon  to  fall  over  one  another  as  we 
do,  when  we  get  going.  It  would  be  interest 
ing  to  know  just  how  much  liking  there  is  in 
the  popularity  of  a  given  book." 

"  It's  like  the  run  of  a  song,  isn't  it  ?"  Kenby 
suggested.  "You  can't  stand  either  when  it 
reaches  a  given  point." 

He  spoke  to  March  and  ignored  Triscoe,  who 
had  hitherto  ignored  the  rest  of  the  table. 

"It's  very  curious,"  March  said.    "  The  book 
or  the  song  catches  a  mood,  or  feeds  a  craving, 
and  when  one  passes  or  the  other  is  glutted— 
125 


"The  discouraging  part  is,"  Triscoe  put  in, 
still  limiting  himself  to  the  Marches,  "  that  it's 
never  a  question  of  real  taste.  The  things 
that  go  down  with  us  are  so  crude,  so  coarse 
ly  spiced ;  they  tickle  such  a  vulgar  pal 
ate —  Now  in  France,  for  instance,"  he  sug 
gested. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  returned  the  editor. 
"  After  all,  we  eat  a  good  deal  of  bread,  and 
we  drink  more  pure  water  than  any  other  peo 
ple.  Even  when  we  drink  it  iced,  I  fancy  it 
isn't  so  bad  as  absinthe." 

The  young  bride  looked  at  him  gratefully, 
but  she  said,  "If  we  can't  get  ice -water  in 
Europe,  I  don't  know  what  Mr.  Leffers  will 
do,"  and  the  talk  threatened  to  pass  among 
the  ladies  into  a  comparison  of  American  and 
European  customs. 

Burnamy  could  not  bear  to  let  it.  "  I  don't 
pretend  to  be  very  well  up  in  French  literature," 
he  began,  "  but  I  think  such  a  book  as  The 
Maiden  Knight  isn't  such  a  bad  piece  of  work  ; 
people  are  liking  a  pretty  well  built  story  when 
they  like  it.  Of  course  it's  sentimental,  and  it 
begs  the  question  a  good  deal  ;  but  it  imagines 
something  heroic  in  character,  and  it  makes 
the  reader  imagine  it  too.  The  man  who  wrote 
that  book  may  be  a  donkey  half  the  time,  but 
he's  a  genius  the  other  half.  By-and-by  he'll 
do  something — after  he  comes  to  see  that  his 
Maiden  Knight  was  a  fool — that  I  believe  even 
126 


you  won't  be  down  on,  Mr.  March,  if  he  paints 
a  heroic  type  as  powerfully  as  he  does  in  this 
book." 

He  spoke  with  the  authority  of  a  journalist, 
and  though  he  deferred  to  March  in  the  end, 
he  deferred  with  authority  still.  March  liked 
him  for  coming  to  the  defence  of  the  young 
writer  whom  he  had  not  himself  learned  to  like 
yet.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  if  he  has  the  power  you 
say,  and  can  keep  it  after  he  comes  to  his 
artistic  consciousness." 

Mrs.  Leffers,  as  if  she  thought  things  were 
going  her  way,  smiled  ;  Rose  Adding  listened 
with  shining  eyes  expectantly  fixed  on  March  ; 
his  mother  viewed  his  rapture  with  tender 
amusement.  The  steward  was  at  Kenby's 
shoulder  with  the  salad  and  his  entreating 
"  Blcacc  /"  and  Triscoe  seemed  to  be  question 
ing  whether  he  should  take  any  notice  of  Bur- 
namy's  general  disagreement.  He  said  at  last : 
"  I'm  afraid  we  haven't  the  documents.  You 
don't  seem  to  have  cared  for  French  books, 
and  I  haven't  read  The  Maiden  Knight."  He 
added  to  March  :  "  But  I  don't  defend  absinthe. 
Ice-water  is  better.  What  I  object  to  is  our 
indiscriminate  taste  both  for  raw  whiskey  and 
for  milk-and-water." 

No  one  took  up  the  question  again,  and  it  was 

Kenby  who  spoke  next.     "  The  doctor  thinks, 

if  this  weather   holds,  that  we   shall  be   into 

Plymouth  Wednesday  morning.     I  always  like 

127 


to  get  a  professional  opinion  on  the  ship's 
run." 

In  the  evening,  as  Mrs.  March  was  putting 
away  in  her  portfolio  the  journal-letter  which 
she  was  writing  to  send  back  from  Plymouth  to 
her  children,  Miss  Triscoe  drifted  to  the  place 
where  she  sat  at  their  table  in  the  dining-room 
by  a  coincidence  which  they  both  respected  as 
casual. 

"  We  had  quite  a  literary  dinner,"  she  re 
marked,  hovering  for  a  moment  near  the  chair 
which  she  later  sank  into.  "  It  must  have 
made  you  feel  very  much  at  home.  Or  per 
haps  you're  so  tired  ot  it  at  home  that  you 
don't  talk  about  books." 

"We  always  talk  shop,  in  some  form  or 
other,"  said  Mrs.  March.  "My  husband  never 
tires  of  it.  A  good  many  of  the  contributors 
come  to  us,  you  know." 

"  It  must  be  delightful,"  said  the  girl.  She 
added  as  if  she  ought  to  excuse  herself  for 
neglecting  an  advantage  that  might  have  been 
hers  if  she  had  chosen,  "  I'm  sorry  one  sees  so 
little  of  the  artistic  and  literary  set.  But  New 
York  is  such  a  big  place." 

"  New  York  people  seem  to  be  very  fond  of 
it,"  said  Mrs.  March.  "  Those  who  have  always 
lived  there." 

"We  haven't  always  lived  there,"  said  the 
girl.  "  But  I  think  one  has  a  good  time  there 
— the  best  time  a  girl  can  have.  It's  all  very 
128 


well  coming  over  for  the  summer  ;  one  has  to 
spend  the  summer  somewhere.  Are  you  going 
out  for  a  long  time  ?" 

"Only  for  the  summer.     First  to  Carlsbad." 

"  Oh  yes.  I  suppose  we  shall  travel  about 
through  Germany,  and  then  go  to  Paris.  We 
always  do ;  my  father  is  very  fond  of  it." 

"  You  must  know  it  very  well,"  said  Mrs. 
March,  aimlessly. 

"  I  was  born  there — if  that  means  knowing 
it.  I  lived  there  till  I  was  eleven  years  old. 
We  came  home  after  my  mother  died." 

"Oh!"  said  Mrs.  March. 

The  girl  did  not  go  further  into  her  family 
history  ;  but  by  one  of  those  leaps  which  seem 
to  women  as  logical  as  other  progressions,  she 
arrived  at  asking,  "  Is  Mr.  Burnamy  one  of  the 
— contributors  ?" 

Mrs.  March  laughed.  "  He  is  going  to  be,  as 
soon  as  his  poem  is  printed." 

"  Poem  ?" 

"  Yes.     Mr.  March  thinks  it's  very  nice." 

"  I  thought  he  spoke  very  nicely  about  The 
Maiden  Knight.  And  he  has  been  very  nice  to 
papa.  You  know  they  have  the  same  room." 

"  I  think  Mr.  Burnamy  told  me,"  Mrs.  March 
said. 

The  girl  went  on.  "  He  had  the  lower  berth, 
and  he  gave  it  to  papa  ;  he's  done  everything 
but  turn  himself  out  of  doors." 

"  I'm  sure  he's  been  very  glad,"  Mrs.  March 
I  129 


ventured  on  Burnamy's  behalf,  but  very  soft 
ly,  lest  if  she  breathed  upon  these  budding 
confidences  they  should  shrink  and  wither 
away. 

"I  always  tell  papa  that  there's  no  country 
like  America  for  real  unselfishness ;  and  if 
they're  all  like  tJiat,  in  Chicago  !"  The  girl 
stopped,  and  added  with  a  laugh,  "  But  I'm 
always  quarrelling  with  papa  about  America." 

"  I  have  a  daughter  living  in  Chicago,"  said 
Mrs.  March,  alluringly. 

But  Miss  Triscoe  refused  the  bait,  either  be 
cause  she  had  said  all  she  meant,  or  because 
she  had  said  all  she  would,  about  Chicago, 
which  Mrs.  March  felt  for  the  present  to  be 
one  with  Burnamy.  She  gave  another  of  her 
leaps.  "  I  don't  see  why  people  are  so  anxious 
to  get  it  like  Europe,  at  home.  They  say  that 
there  was  a  time  when  there  were  no  chap 
erons — before  hoops,  you  know."  She  looked 
suggestively  at  Mrs.  March,  resting  one  slim 
hand  on  the  table,  and  controlling  her  skirt 
with  the  other,  as  if  she  were  getting  ready  to 
rise  at  any  moment.  "  When  they  used  to  sit 
on  their  steps." 

"  It  was  very  pleasant  before  hoops — in  every 
way,"  said  Mrs.  March.  "  I  was  young,  then  ; 
and  I  lived  in  Boston,  where  I  suppose  it  was 
always  simpler  than  in  New  York.  I  used  to 
sit  on  our  steps.  It  was  delightful  for  girls — 
the  freedom." 

130 


"  I  wish  I  had  lived  before  hoops,"  said  Miss 
Triscoe. 

"  Well,  there  must  be  places  where  it's  before 
hoops  yet  :  Seattle,  and  Portland,  Oregon,  for 
all  I  know,"  Mrs.  March  suggested.  "And 
there  must  be  people  in  that  epoch  every 
where." 

"  Like  that  young  lady  who  twists  and  turns  ?" 
said  Miss  Triscoe,  giving  first  one  side  of  her 
face  and  then  the  other.  "  They  have  a  good 
time.  I  suppose  if  Europe  came  to  us  in  one 
way  it  had  to  come  in  another.  If  it  came  in 
galleries  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  it  had  to 
come  in  chaperons.  You'll  think  I'm  a  great 
extremist,  Mrs.  March  ;  but  sometimes  I  wish 
there  was  more  America  instead  of  less.  I 
don't  believe  it's  as  bad  as  people  say.  Does 
Mr.  March,"  she  asked,  taking  hold  of  the 
chair  with  one  hand,  to  secure  her  footing 
from  any  caprice  of  the  sea,  while  she  gath 
ered  her  skirt  more  firmly  into  the  other,  as 
she  rose,  "does  he  think  that  America  is  going 
all  wrong  ?" 

"  All  wrong  ?     How  ?" 

"  Oh,  in  politics,  don't  you  know.  And  gov 
ernment,  and  all  that.  And  bribing.  And  the 
lower  classes  having  everything  their  own  way. 
And  the  horrid  newspapers.  And  everything 
getting  so  expensive  ;  and  no  regard  for  family, 
or  anything  of  that  kind." 

Mrs.  March  thought  she  saw  what  Miss  Tris- 


coe  meant,  but  she  answered,  still  cautiously, 
"  I  don't  believe  he  does  always.  Though  there 
are  times  when  he  is  very  much  disgusted. 
Then  he  says  that  he  is  getting  too  old — and 
we  always  quarrel  about  that — to  see  things  as 
they  really  are.  He  says  that  if  the  world  had 
been  going  the  way  that  people  over  fifty  have 
always  thought  it  was  going,  it  would  have  gone 
to  smash  in  the  time  of  the  anthropoidal  apes." 

"  Oh  yes :  Darwin,"  said  Miss  Triscoe, 
vaguely.  "  Well,  I'm  glad  he  doesn't  give  it 
up.  I  don't  know  but  I  was  holding  out  just 
because  I  had  argued  so  much,  and  was  doing 
it  out  of — opposition.  Good-night." 

She  called  her  salutation  gayly  over  her 
shoulder,  and  Mrs.  March  watched  her  gliding 
out  of  the  saloon  with  a  graceful  tilt  to  humor 
the  slight  roll  of  the  ship,  and  a  little  lurch  to 
correct  it,  once  or  twice,  and  wondered  if  Bur- 
namy  was  afraid  of  her  ;  it  seemed  to  her  that 
if  she  were  a  young  man  she  should  not  be 
afraid  of  Miss  Triscoe. 

The  next  morning,  just  after  she  had  ar 
ranged  herself  in  her  steamer  chair,  Burnamy 
approached  her,  bowing  and  smiling,  with  the 
first  of  his  many  bows  and  smiles  for  the  day, 
and  at  the  same  time  Miss  Triscoe  came  towards 
her  from  the  opposite  direction.  She  nodded 
brightly  to  him,  and  he  gave  her  a  bow  and 
smile,  too  ;  he  always  had  so  many  of  them  to 
spare. 

132 


"  Here  is  your  chair  !"  Mrs.  March  called  to 
her,  drawing  the  shawl  out  of  the  chair  next 
her  own.  "  Mr.  March  is  wandering  about  the 
ship  somewhere." 

"  I'll  keep  it  for  him,"  said  Miss  Triscoe,  and 
as  Burnamy  offered  to  take  the  shawl  that 
hung  in  the  hollow  of  her  arm,  she  let  it  slip 
into  his  hand  with  an  "Oh,  thank  you,"  which 
seemed  also  a  permission  for  him  to  wrap  it 
about  her  in  the  chair. 

He  stood  talking  before  the  ladies,  but  he 
looked  up  and  down  the  promenade.  The  piv 
otal  girl  showed  herself  at  the  corner  of  the 
music-room,  as  she  had  done  the  day  before. 
At  first  she  revolved  there  as  if  she  were 
shedding  her  light  on  some  one  hidden  round 
the  corner  ;  then  she  moved  a  few  paces  far 
ther  out  and  showed  herself  more  obviously 
alone.  Clearly  she  was  there  for  Burnamy  to 
come  and  walk  with  her  ;  Mrs.  March  could 
see  that,  and  she  felt  that  Miss  Triscoe  saw  it 
too.  She  waited  for  her  to  dismiss  him  to  his 
flirtation  ;  but  Miss  Triscoe  kept  chatting  on, 
and  he  kept  answering,  and  making  no  motion 
to  get  away.  Mrs.  March  began  to  be  as  sorry 
for  her  as  she  was  ashamed  for  him.  Then 
she  heard  him  saying,  "  Would  you  like  a  turn 
or  two  ?"  and  Miss  Triscoe  answering,  "  Why, 
yes,  thank  you,"  and  promptly  getting  out  of 
her  chair  as  if  the  pains  they  had  both  been 
at  to  get  her  settled  in  it  were  all  nothing. 
133 


She  had  the  composure  to  say,  "  You  can 
leave  your  shawl  with  me,  Miss  Triscoe,"  and 
to  receive  her  fervent  "  Oh,  tliank  you,"  before 
they  sailed  off  together,  with  an  inhuman  in 
difference  to  the  girl  at  the  corner  of  the 
music-room.  Then  she  sank  into  a  kind  of  tri 
umphal  collapse,  from  which  she  roused  her 
self  to  point  her  husband  to  the  chair  beside 
her  when  he  happened  along. 

He  chose  to  be  perverse  about  her  romance. 
"Well,  now,  you  had  better  let  them  alone. 
Remember  Kendricks."  He  meant  one  of 
their  young  friends  whose  love-affair  they  had 
promoted  till  his  happy  marriage  left  them  in 
lasting  doubt  of  what  they  had  done.  "  My 
sympathies  are  all  with  the  pivotal  girl. 
Hadn't  she  as  much  right  to  him,  for  the 
time  being,  or  for  good  and  all,  as  Miss 
Triscoe  ?" 

"That  depends  upon  what  you  think  of 
Burnamy." 

"  Well,  I  don't  like  to  see  a  girl  have  a  young 
man  snatched  away  from  her  just  when  she's 
made  sure  of  him.  How  do  you  suppose  she 
is  feeling  now  ?" 

"  She  isn't  feeling  at  all.  She's  letting  her 
revolving  light  fall  upon  half  a  dozen  other 
young  men  by  this  time,  collectively  or  con 
secutively.  All  she  wants  to  make  sure  of  is 
that  they're  young  men — or  old  ones,  even." 

March  laughed,  but  not  altogether  at  what 


his  wife  said.  "  I've  been  having  a  little  talk 
with  Papa  Triscoe,  in  the  smoking-room." 

"You  smell  like  it,"  said  his  wife,  not  to 
seem  too  eager.  "  Well  ?" 

"  Well,  Papa  Triscoe  seems  to  be  in  a  pout. 
He  doesn't  think  things  are  going  as  they 
should  in  America.  He  hasn't  been  consulted, 
or  if  he  has,  his  opinion  hasn't  been  acted 
upon." 

"  I  think  he's  horrid,"  said  Mrs.  March. 
"  Who  are  they  ?" 

"  I  couldn't  make  out,  and  I  couldn't  ask. 
But  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think." 

"What?" 

"  That  there's  no  chance  for  Burnamy.  He's 
taking  his  daughter  out  to  marry  her  to  a 
crowned  head." 


XV 


IT  was  this  afternoon  that  the  dance  took 
place  on  the  south  promenade.  Everybody 
came  and  looked,  and  the  circle  around  the 
waltzers  was  three  or  four  deep.  Between  the 
surrounding  heads  and  shoulders,  the  hats  of 
the  young  ladies  wheeling  and  whirling,  and 
the  faces  of  the  men  who  were  wheeling  and 
whirling  them,  rose  and  sank  with  the  rhythm 
of  their  steps.  The  space  allotted  to  the  dan 
cing  was  walled  to  seaward  with  canvas,  and 
was  prettily  treated  with  German  and  Amer 
ican  flags  ;  it  was  hard  to  go  wrong  with  flags, 
Miss  Triscoe  said,  securing  herself  under  Mrs. 
March's  wing. 

Where  they  stood  they  could  see  Burnamy's 
face,  flashing  and  flushing  in  the  dance  ;  at  the 
end  of  the  first  piece  he  came  to  them,  and  re 
mained  talking  and  laughing  till  the  music  be 
gan  again. 

136 


"Don't  you  want  to  try  it?"  he  asked  ab 
ruptly  of  Miss  Triscoe. 

"  Isn't  it  rather — public  ?"  she  asked  back. 

Mrs.  March  could  feel  the  hand  which  the 
girl  had  put  through  her  arm  thrill  with  temp 
tation  ;  but  Burnamy  could  not. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  rather  obvious,"  he  said,  and 
he  made  a  long  glide  over  the  deck  to  the  feet 
of  the  pivotal  girl,  anticipating  another  young 
man  who  was  rapidly  advancing  from  the  op 
posite  quarter.  The  next  moment  her  hat  and 
his  face  showed  themselves  in  the  necessary 
proximity  to  each  other  within  the  circle. 

"  How  well  she  dances  !"  said  Miss  Triscoe. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  She  looks  as  if  she  had 
been  wound  up  and  set  going." 

"  She's  very  graceful,"  the  girl  persisted. 

The  day  ended  with  an  entertainment  in  the 
saloon  for  one  of  the  marine  charities  which 
address  themselves  to  the  hearts  and  pockets 
of  passengers  on  all  steamers.  There  were  reci 
tations  in  English  and  German,  and  songs  from 
several  people  who  had  kindly  consented,  and 
ever  more  piano  performance.  Most  of  those 
who  took  part  were  of  the  race  gifted  in  art 
and  finance  ;  its  children  excelled  in  the  music, 
and  its  fathers  counted  the  gate-money  during 
the  last  half  of  the  programme,  with  an  audi 
ble  clinking  of  the  silver  on  the  table  before 
them. 

Miss  Triscoe  was  with  her  father,  and  Mrs. 
137 


March  was  herself  chaperoned  by  Mr.  Bur- 
namy  :  her  husband  had  refused  to  come  to 
the  entertainment.  She  hoped  to  leave  Bur- 
namy  and  Miss  Triscoe  together  before  the 
evening  ended  ;  but  Miss  Triscoe  merely 
stopped  with  her  father,  in  quitting  the  saloon, 
to  laugh  at  some  features  of  the  entertain 
ment,  as  people  who  take  no  part  in  such 
things  do ;  Burnamy  stood  up  to  exchange 
some  unimpassioned  words  with  her,  and  then 
they  said  good-night. 

The  next  morning,  at  five  o'clock,  the  No- 
rumbia  came  to  anchor  in  the  pretty  harbor 
of  Plymouth.  In  the  cool  early  light  the  town 
lay  distinct  along  the  shore,  quaint  with  its 
small  English  houses,  and  stately  with  some 
public  edifices  of  unknown  function  on  the  up 
lands  ;  a  country-seat  of  aristocratic  aspect 
showed  itself  on  one  of  the  heights  ;  on  an 
other  the  tower  of  a  country  church  peered 
over  the  tree-tops;  there  were  lines  of  fortifica 
tions,  as  peaceful,  at  their  distance,  as  the  stone 
walls  dividing  the  green  fields.  The  very  iron 
clads  in  the  harbor  close  at  hand  contributed 
to  the  amiable  gayety  of  the  scene  under  the 
pale  blue  English  sky,  already  broken  with 
clouds  from  which  the  flush  of  the  sunrise  had 
not  quite  faded.  The  breath  of  the  land  came 
freshly  out  over  the  water;  one  could  almost 
smell  the  grass  and  the  leaves.  Gulls  wheeled 
and  darted  over  the  crisp  water  ;  the  tones  of 
138 


the  English  voices  on  the  tender  were  pleas 
ant  to  the  ear,  as  it  fussed  and  scuffled  to  the 
ship's  side.  A  few  score  of  the  passengers  left 
her ;  with  their  baggage  they  formed  pict 
uresque  groups  on  the  tender's  deck,  and  they 
set  out  for  the  shore  waving  their  hands  and 
their  handkerchiefs  to  the  friends  they  left 
clustered  along  the  rail  of  the  Norumbia.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Leffers  bade  March  farewell,  in  the 
final  fondness  inspired  by  his  having  coffee 
with  them  before  they  left  the  ship  ;  they  said 
they  hated  to  leave. 

The  stop  had  roused  everybody,  and  the 
breakfast -tables  were  promptly  filled,  except 
such  as  the  passengers  landing  at  Plymouth  had 
vacated;  these  were  stripped  of  their  cloths, 
and  the  remaining  commensals  placed  at  oth 
ers.  The  seats  of  the  Lefferses  were  given  to 
March's  old  Ohio  friend  and  his  wife.  He  tried 
to  engage  them  in  the  talk  which  began  to  be 
general  in  the  excitement  of  having  touched 
land  ;  but  they  shyly  held  aloof. 

Some  English  newspapers  had  come  aboard 
from  the  tug,  and  there  was  the  usual  good- 
natured  adjustment  of  the  American  self-sat 
isfaction,  among  those  who  had  seen  them,  to 
the  ever-surprising  fact  that  our  continent  is 
apparently  of  no  interest  to  Europe.  There 
were  some  meagre  New  York  stock-market 
quotations  in  the  papers;  a  paragraph  in  fine 
print  announced  the  lynching  of  a  negro  in 
141 


Alabama  ;    another    recorded    a   coal  -  mining 
strike  in  Pennsylvania. 

"  I  always  have  to  get  used  to  it  over  again," 
said  Kenby.  "This  is  the  twentieth  time  I  have 
been  across,  and  I'm  just  as  much  astonished 
as  I  was  the  first,  to  find  out  that  they  don't 
want  to  know  anything  about  us  over  here." 

"Oh,"  said  March,  "curiosity  and  the  weather 
both  come  from  the  west.  San  Francisco  wants 
to  know  about  Denver,  Denver  about  Chica 
go,  Chicago  about  New  York,  and  New  York 
about  London  ;  but  curiosity  never  travels  the 
other  way  any  more  than  a  hot  wave  or  a  cold 
wave." 

"Ah,  but  London  doesn't  care  a  rap  about 
Vienna,"  said  Kenby. 

"  Well,  some  pressures  give  out  before  they 
reach  the  coast,  on  our  own  side.  It  isn't  an 
infallible  analogy." 

Triscoe  was  fiercely  chewing  a  morsel,  as  if 
in  haste  to  take  part  in  the  discussion.  He 
gulped  it,  and  broke  out:  "Why  should  they 
care  for  us,  anyway?" 

March  lightly  ventured,  "Oh,  men  and  broth 
ers,  you  know." 

"  That  isn't  sufficient  ground.  The  Chinese 
are  men  and  brothers ;  so  are  the  South-Amer 
icans  and  Central-Africans,  and  Hawaiians ; 
but  we're  not  impatient  for  the  latest  news 
about  them.  It's  civilization  that  interests 
civilization." 

142 


"  I  hope  that  fact  doesn't  leave  us  out  in  the 
cold  with  the  barbarians?"  Burnamy  put  in, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Do  you  think  we  are  civilized  ?"  retorted 
the  other. 

"  We  have  that  superstition  in  Chicago,"  said 
Burnamy.  He  added,  still  smiling,  "About  the 
New  Yorkers,  I  mean." 

"You're  more  superstitious  in  Chicago  than 
I  supposed.  New  York  is  an  anarchy,  tem 
pered  by  vigilance  committees." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  you  can  say  that,"  Kenby 
cheerfully  protested,  "  since  the  Reformers 
came  in.  Look  at  our  streets  !" 

"  Yes,  our  streets  are  clean,  for  the  time 
being,  and  when  we  look  at  them  we  think  we 
have  made  a  clean  sweep  in  our  manners  and 
morals.  But  how  long  do  you  think  it  will  be 
before  Tammany  will  be  in  the  saddle  again  ?" 

"  Oh,  never  in  the  world  !"  said  the  optimistic 
head  of  the  table. 

"  I  wish  I  had  your  faith  ;  or  I  should  if  I 
didn't  feel  that  it  is  one  of  the  things  that 
help  to  perpetuate  Tammanys  with  us.  You 
will  see  our  Tammany  in  power  after  the  next 
election."  Kenby  laughed  in  a  large-hearted 
incredulity  ;  and  his  laugh  was  like  fuel  to  the 
other's  flame.  "New  York  is  politically  a 
mediaeval  Italian  republic,  and  it's  morally  a 
frontier  mining  town.  Socially  it's —  He 
stopped  as  if  he  could  not  say  what. 
143 


"  I  think  it's  a  place  where  you  have  a  very 
nice  time,  papa,"  said  his  daughter,  and  Bur- 
namy  smiled  with  her  ;  not  because  he  knew 
anything  about  it. 

Her  father  went  on  as  if  he  had  not  heard 
her.  "  It's  as  vulgar  and  crude  as  money  can 
make  it.  Nothing  counts  but  money,  and  as 
soon  as  there's  enough,  it  counts  for  every 
thing.  In  less  than  a  year  you'll  have  Tam 
many  in  power  ;  it  won't  be  more  than  a  year 
till  you'll  have  it  in  society." 

"Oh  no  !  Oh  no  !".  came  from  Kenby.  He 
did  not  care  much  for  society,  but  he  vaguely 
respected  it  as  the  stronghold  of  the  proprieties 
and  the  amenities. 

"  Isn't  society  a  good  place  for  Tammany 
to  be  in?"  asked  March  in  the  pause  Triscoe 
let  follow  upon  Kenby's  laugh. 

"There's  no  reason  why  it  shouldn't  be. 
Society  is  as  bad  as  all  the  rest  of  it.  And 
what  New  York  is,  politically,  morally,  and 
socially,  the  whole  country  wishes  to  be  and 
tries  to  be." 

There  was  that  measure  of  truth  in  the 
words  which  silences ;  no  one  could  find  just 
the  terms  of  refutation. 

"  Well,"  said  Kenby  at  last,  "  it's  a  good 
thing  there  are  so  many  lines  to  Europe. 
We've  still  got  the  right  to  emigrate." 

"  Yes,  but  even  there  we  don't  escape  the 
abuse  of  our  infamous  newspapers  for  exercis- 
144 


ing  a  man's  right  to  live  where  he  chooses. 
And  there  is  no  country  in  Europe — except 
Turkey,  or  Spain — that  isn't  a  better  home  for 
an  honest  man  than  the  United  States." 

The  Ohioan  had  once  before  cleared  his 
throat  as  if  he  were  going  to  speak.  Now,  he 
leaned  far  enough  forward  to  catch  Triscoe's 
eye,  and  said,  slowly  and  distinctly  :  "  I  don't 
know  just  what  reason  you  have  to  feel  as  you 
do  about  the  country.  I  feel  differently  about 
it  myself — perhaps  because  I  fought  for  it." 

At  first,  the  others  were  glad  of  this  arro 
gance  ;  it  even  seemed  an  answer ;  but  Burnamy 
saw  Miss  Triscoe's  cheek  flush,  and  then  he 
doubted  its  validity. 

Triscoe  nervously  crushed  a  biscuit  in  his 
hand,  as  if  to  expend  a  violent  impulse  upon  it. 
He  said,  coldly,  "  I  was  speaking  from  that 
stand-point." 

The  Ohioan  shrank  back  in  his  seat,  and 
March  felt  sorry  for  him,  though  he  had  put 
himself  in  the  wrong.  His  old  hand  trembled 
beside  his  plate,  and  his  head  shook,  while  his 
lips  formed  silent  words  ;  and  his  shy  wife  was 
sharing  his  pain  and  shame. 

Kenby  began  to  talk  about  the  stop  which 
the  Nornmbia  was  to  make  at  Cherbourg,  and 
about  what  hour  the  next  day  they  should  all 
be  in  Cuxhaven.  Miss  Triscoe  said  they  had 
never  come  on  the  Hanseatic  Line  before,  and 
asked  several  questions.  Her  father  did  not 
K  145 


speak  again,  and  after  a  little  while  he  rose 
without  waiting  for  her  to  make  the  move 
from  table  ;  he  had  punctiliously  deferred  to 
her  hitherto.  Eltwin  rose  at  the  same  time, 
and  March  feared  that  he  might  be  going  to 
provoke  another  defeat,  in  some  way. 

Eltwin  lifted  his  voice,  and  said,  trying  to 
catch  Triscoe's  eye,  "  I  think  I  ought  to  beg 
your  pardon,  sir.  I  do  beg  your  pardon." 

March  perceived  that  Eltwin  wished  to  make 
the  offer  of  his  reparation  as  distinct  as  his 
aggression  had  been  ;  and  now  he  quaked  for 
Triscoe,  whose  daughter  he  saw  glance  appre 
hensively  at  her  father  as  she  swayed  aside  to 
let  the  two  men  come  together. 

"  That  is  all  right,  Colonel—" 

"  Major,"  Eltwin  conscientiously  interposed. 

"Major,"  Triscoe  bowed  ;  and  he  put  out  his 
hand  and  grasped  the  hand  which  had  been 
tremulously  rising  towards  him.  "  There  can't 
be  any  doubt  of  what  we  did,  no  matter  what 
we've  got." 

"  No,  no!"  said  the  other,  eagerly.  "  That  was 
what  I  meant,  sir.  I  don't  think  as  you  do  ; 
but  I  believe  that  a  man  who  helped  to  save 
the  country  has  a  right  to  think  what  he  pleases 
about  it." 

Triscoe  said,  "  That  is  all  right,  my  dear  sir. 
May  I  ask  your  regiment  ?" 

The  Marches  let  the  old  fellows  walk  away 
together,  followed  by  the  wife  of  the  one  and 
146 


the  daughter  of  the  other.  They  saw  the 
young  girl  making  some  graceful  overtures  of 
speech  to  the  elder  woman  as  they  went. 

"  That  was  rather  fine,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
March. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  It  was  a  little  too  dra 
matic,  wasn't  it  ?  It  wasn't  what  I  should  have 
expected  of  real  life." 

"  Oh,  you  spoil  everything  !  If  tJiafs  the 
spirit  you're  going  through  Europe  in  !" 

"  It  isn't.  As  soon  as  I  touch  European  soil 
I  shall  reform." 


XVI 


THAT  was  not  the  first  time  General 
Triscoe  had  silenced  question  of  his 
opinions  with  the  argument  he  had 
used  upon  Eltwin,  though  he  was  seldom  able 
to  use  it  so  aptly.  He  always  found  that 
people  suffered  his  belief  in  our  national  de 
generation  much  more  readily  when  they  knew 
that  he  had  left  a  diplomatic  position  in  Eu 
rope  (he  had  gone  abroad  as  secretary  of  a 
minor  legation)  to  come  home  and  fight  for  the 
Union.  Some  millions  of  other  men  had  gone 
into  the  war  from  the  varied  motives  which 
impelled  men  at  that  time  ;  but  he  was  aware 
that  he  had  distinction,  as  a  man  of  property 
and  a  man  of  family,  in  doing  so.  His  family 
had  improved  as  time  passed,  and  it  was  now 
so  old  that  back  of  his  grandfather  it  was  lost 
in  antiquity.  This  ancestor  had  retired  from 
the  sea  and  became  a  merchant  in  his  native 
148 


Rhode  Island  port,  where  his  son  established 
himself  as  a  physician,  and  married  the  daugh 
ter  of  a  former  slave-trader  whose  social  posi 
tion  was  the  highest  in  the  place  ;  Triscoe 
liked  to  mention  his  maternal  grandfather 
when  he  wished  a  listener  to  realize  just  how 
anomalous  his  part  in  a  war  against  slavery 
was  ;  it  heightened  the  effect  of  his  pose. 

He  fought  gallantly  through  the  war,  and  he 
was  brevetted  Brigadier-General  at  the  close. 
With  this  honor,  and  with  the  wound  which 
caused  an  almost  imperceptible  limp  in  his 
gait,  he  won  the  heart  of  a  rich  New  York  girl, 
and  her  father  set  him  up  in  a  business,  which 
was  not  long  in  going  to  pieces  in  his  hands. 
Then  the  young  couple  went  to  live  in  Paris, 
where  their  daughter  was  born,  and  where  the 
mother  died  when  the  child  was  ten  years  old. 
A  little  later  his  father-in-law  died,  and  Triscoe 
returned  to  New  York,  where  he  found  the 
fortune  which  his  daughter  had  inherited  was 
much  less  than  he  somehow  thought  he  had  a 
right  to  expect. 

The  income  from  her  fortune  was  enough  to 
live  on,  and  he  did  not  go  back  to  Paris,  where, 
in  fact,  things  were  not  so  much  to  his  mind 
under  the  Republic  as  they  had  been  under 
the  Second  Empire.  He  was  still  willing  to  do 
something  for  his  country,  however,  and  he 
allowed  his  name  to  be  used  on  a  citizen's 
ticket  in  his  district ;  but  his  provision-man 
149 


was  sent  to  Congress  instead.  Then  he  re 
tired  to  Rhode  Island  and  attempted  to  con 
vert  his  shore  property  into  a  watering-place  ; 
but  after  being  attractively  plotted  and  laid 
out  with  streets  and  sidewalks,  it  allured  no 
one  to  build  on  it  except  the  birds  and  the  chip- 
monks,  and  he  came  back  to  New  York,  where 
his  daughter  had  remained  at  school. 

One  of  her  maternal  aunts  made  her  a 
coming-out  tea,  after  she  left  school ;  and  she 
entered  upon  a  series  of  dinners,  dances,  thea 
tre  parties,  and  receptions  of  all  kinds  ;  but 
the  tide  of  fairy  gold  pouring  through  her 
fingers  left  no  engagement-ring  on  them.  She 
had  no  duties,  but  she  seldom  got  out  of  humor 
with  her  pleasures  ;  she  had  some  odd  tastes  of 
her  own,  and  in  a  society  where  none  but  the 
most  serious  books  were  ever  seriously  men 
tioned  she  was  rather  fond  of  good  ones,  and 
had  romantic  ideas  of  a  life  that  she  vaguely 
called  bohemian.  Her  character  was  never 
tested  by  anything  more  trying  than  the  fear 
that  her  father  might  take  her  abroad  to  live  ; 
he  had  taken  her  abroad  several  times  for  the 
summer. 

The  dreaded  trial  did  not  approach  for  sev 
eral  years  after  <she  had  ceased  to  be  a  bud  ; 
and  then  it  came  when  her  father  was  again 
willing  to  serve  his  country  in  diplomacy, 
either  at  The  Hague,  or  at  Brussels,,  or  even  at 
Berne.  Reasons  of  political  geography  pre- 
150 


vented  his  appointment  anywhere,  but  Gen 
eral  Triscoe  having  arranged  his  affairs  for 
going  abroad  on  the  mission  he  had  expected, 
decided  to  go  without  it.  He  was  really  very 
fit  for  both  of  the  offices  he  had  sought,  and  so 
far  as  a  man  can  deserve  public  place  by  pub 
lic  service,  he  had  deserved  it.  His  pessimism 
was  uncommonly  well  grounded,  and  if  it  did 
not  go  very  deep,  it  might  well  have  reached 
the  bottom  of  his  nature. 

His  daughter  had  begun  to  divine  him  at 
the  early  age  when  parents  suppose  themselves 
still  to  be  mysteries  to  their  children.  She  did 
not  think  it  necessary  ever  to  explain  him  to 
others  ;  perhaps  she  would  not  have  found  it 
possible  ;  and  now  after  she  parted  with  Mrs. 
Eltwin  and  went  to  sit  down  beside  Mrs.  March 
she  did  not  refer  to  her  father.  She  said  how 
sweet  she  had  found  the  old  lady  from  Ohio  ; 
and  what  sort  of  place  did  Mrs.  March  suppose 
it  was  where  Mrs.  Eltwin  lived  ?  They  seemed 
to  have  everything  there,  like  any  place.  She 
had  wanted  to  ask  Mrs.  Eltwin  if  they  sat  on 
their  steps  ;  but  she  had  not  quite  dared. 

Burnamy  came  by,  slowly,  and  at  Mrs. 
March's  suggestion  he  took  one  of  the  chairs 
on  her  other  side,  to  help  her  and  Miss  Tris 
coe  look  at  the  Channel  Islands  and  watch  the 
approach  of  the  steamer  to  Cherbourg,  where 
the  Norumbia  was  to  land  again.  The  young 
people  talked  across  Mrs.  March  to  each  other, 


and  said  how  charming  the  islands  were,  in 
their  gray-green  insubstantiality,  with  valleys 
furrowing  them  far  inward,  like  airy  clefts  in 
low  banks  of  clouds.  It  seemed  all  the  nicer 
not  to  know  just  which  was  which  ;  but  when 
the  ship  drew  nearer  to  Cherbourg,  he  sug 
gested  that  they  could  see  better  by  going 
round  to  the  other  side  of  the  ship.  Miss  Tris- 
coe,  as  at  the  other  times  when  she  had  gone 
off  with  Burnamy,  marked  her  allegiance  to 
Mrs.  March  by  leaving  a  wrap  with  her. 

Every  one  was  restless  in  breaking  with  the 
old  life  at  sea.  There  had  been  an  equal  un 
rest  when  the  ship  first  sailed  ;  people  had  first 
come  aboard  in  the  demoralization  of  severing 
their  ties  with  home,  and  they  shrank  from 
forming  others.  Then  the  charm  of  the  idle, 
eventless  life  grew  upon  them,  and  united 
them  in  a  fond  reluctance  from  the  inevita 
ble  end.  Now  that  the  beginning  of  the  end 
had  come,  the  pangs  of  disintegration  were 
felt  in  all  the  once  -  repellent  particles.  Bur 
namy  and  Miss  Triscoe,  as  they  hung  upon  the 
rail,  owned  to  each  other  that  they  hated  to 
have  the  voyage  over.  They  had  liked  leav 
ing  Plymouth  and  being  at  sea  again  ;  they 
wished  that  they  need  not  be  reminded  of  an 
other  debarkation  by  the  energy  of  the  crane 
in  hoisting  the  Cherbourg  baggage  from  the 
hold. 

They  approved  of  the  picturesqueness  of 
152 


THEY  OWNED  TO  EACH  OTHER  THAT  THEY  HATED  TO  HAVE 
THE   VOYAGE   OVER " 


three  French  vessels  of  war  that  passed,  drag 
ging  their  kraken  shapes  low  through  the  level 
water.  At  Cherbourg  an  emotional  French 
tender  came  out  to  the  ship,  very  different  in 
her  clamorous  voices  and  excited  figures  from 
the  steady  self-control  of  the  English  tender 
at  Plymouth  ;  and  they  thought  the  French 
fortifications  much  more  on  show  than  the 
English  had  been.  Nothing  marked  their 
youthful  date  so  much  to  the  Marches,  who 
presently  joined  them,  as  their  failure  to  real 
ize  that  in  this  peaceful  sea  the  great  battle 
between  the  Kearsarge  and  the  Alabama  was 
fought.  The  elder  couple  tried  to  affect  their 
imaginations  with  the  fact  which  reanimated 
the  spectre  of  a  dreadful  war  for  themselves  ; 
but  they  had  to  pass  on  and  leave  the  young 
people  unmoved. 

Mrs.  March  wondered  if  they  noticed  the 
debarkation  of  the  pivotal  girl,  whom  she  saw 
standing  on  the  deck  of  the  tender,  with  her 
hands  at  her  waist,  and  giving  now  this  side 
and  now  that  side  of  her  face  to  the  young 
men  waving  their  hats  to  her  from  the  rail  of 
the  ship.  Burnamy  was  not  of  their  number, 
and  he  seemed  not  to  know  that  the  girl  was 
leaving  him  finally  to  Miss  Triscoe.  If  Miss 
Triscoe  knew  it  she  did  nothing  the  whole 
of  that  long,  last  afternoon  to  profit  by  the 
fact.  Burnamy  spent  a  great  part  of  it  in 
the  chair  beside  Mrs.  March,  and  he  showed 
155 


an  intolerable  resignation  to  the  girl's  ab 
sence. 

"  Yes,"  said  March,  taking  the  place  Bur- 
namy  left  at  last,  "  that  terrible  patience  of 
youth  !" 

"Patience?  Folly!  Stupidity!  They  ought 
to  be  together  every  instant  !  Do  they  sup 
pose  that  life  is  frill  of  such  chances  ?  Do  they 
think  that  fate  has  nothing  to  do  but — 

She  stopped  for  a  fit  climax,  and  he  pro 
posed,  "Hang  round  and  wait  on  them  ?" 

"  Yes  !  It's  their  one  chance  in  a  lifetime, 
probably." 

"  Then  you've  quite  decided  that  they're  in 
love  ?"  He  sank  comfortably  back,  and  put  up 
his  weary  legs  on  the  chair's  extension  with 
the  conviction  that  love  had  no  such  joy  as 
that  to  offer. 

"  I've  decided  that  they're  intensely  inter 
ested  in  each  other." 

"  Then  what  more  can  we  ask  of  them  ?  And 
why  do  you  care  what  they  do  or  don't  do  with 
their  chance?  Why  do  you  wish  their  love 
well,  if  it's  that  ?  Is  marriage  such  a  very  cer 
tain  good  ?" 

"  It  isn't  all  that  it  might  be,  but  it's  all  that 
there  is.  What  would  our  lives  have  been 
without  it  ?"  she  retorted. 

"  Oh,  we  should  have  got  on.  It's  such  a 
tremendous  risk  that  we  ought  to  go  round 
begging  people  to  think  twice,  to  count  a  hun- 
156 


dred,  or  a  nonillion,  before  they  fall  in  love  to 
the  marrying-point.  I  don't  mind  their  flirting ; 
that  amuses  them  ;  but  marrying  is  a  different 
thing.  I  doubt  if  Papa  Triscoe  would  take 
kindly  to  the  notion  of  a  son-in-law  he  hadn't 
selected  himself,  and  his  daughter  doesn't 
strike  me  as  a  young  lady  who  has  any  wis 
dom  ,to  throw  away  on  a  choice.  She  has  her 
little  charm  ;  her  little  gift  of  beauty,  of  grace, 
of  spirit,  and  the  other  things  that  go  with  her 
age  and  sex  ;  but  what  could  she  do  for  a  fel 
low  like  Burnamy,  who  has  his  way  to  make, 
who  has  the  ladder  of  fame  to  climb,  with  an 
old  mother  at  the  bottom  of  it  to  look  after  ? 
You  wouldn't  want  him  to  have  an  eye  on 
Miss  Triscoe's  money,  even  if  she  had  money, 
and  I  doubt  if  she  has  much.  It's  all  very 
pretty  to  have  a  girl  like  her  fascinated  with  a 
youth  of  his  simple  traditions  ;  though  Bur 
namy  isn't  altogether  pastoral  in  his  ideals, 
and  he  looks  forward  to  a  place  in  the  very 
world  she  belongs  to.  I  don't  think  it's  for  us 
to  promote  the  affair." 

"  Well,  perhaps  you're  right,"  she  sighed.  "  I 
will  let  them  alone  from  this  out.  Thank  good 
ness,  I  shall  not  have  them  under  my  eyes  very 
long." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  there's  any  harm  done 
yet"  said  her  husband,  with  a  laugh. 

At  dinner  there  seemed  so  little  harm  of  the 
kind  he  meant  that  she  suffered  from  an  illogi- 
157 


cal  disappointment.  The  young  people  got 
through  the  meal  with  no  talk  that  seemed 
inductive  ;  Burnamy  left  the  table  first,  and 
Miss  Triscoe  bore  his  going  without  apparent 
discouragement ;  she  kept  on  chatting  with 
March  till  his  wife  took  him  away  to  their 
chairs  on  deck. 

There  were  a  few  more  ships  in  sight  than 
there  were  in  mid-ocean ;  but  the  late  twilight 
thickened  over  the  North  Sea  quite  like  the 
night  after  they  left  New  York,  except  that  it 
was  colder  ;  and  their  hearts  turned  to  their 
children,  who  had  been  in  abeyance  for  the 
week  past,  with  a  remorseful  pang.  "  Well," 
she  said,  "  I  wish  we  were  going  to  be  in 
New  York  in  the  morning,  instead  of  Ham 
burg." 

"Oh  no!  oh  no!"  he  protested.  "Not  so 
bad  as  that,  my  dear.  This  is  the  last  night, 
and  it's  hard  to  manage,  as  the  last  night 
always  is.  I  suppose  the  last  night  on  earth — 

"  Basil !"  she  implored. 

"  Well,  I  won't,  then.  But  what  I  want  is  to 
see  a  Dutch  lugger.  I've  never  seen  a  Dutch 
lugger,  and — 

She  suddenly  pressed  his  arm,  and  in  obedi 
ence  to  the  signal  he  was  silent  ;  though  it 
seemed  afterwards  that  he  ought  to  have  gone 
on  talking  as  if  he  did  not  see  Burnamy  and 
Miss  Triscoe  swinging  slowly  by.  They  were 
walking  close  together,  and  she  was  leaning 
158 


forward  and  looking  up  into  his  face  while  he 
talked. 

"  Noiv"  Mrs.  March  whispered,  long  after 
they  were  out  of  hearing,  "let  us  go  instantly. 
I  wouldn't  for  worlds  have  them  see  us  here 
when  they  get  round  again.  They  would  feel 
that  they  had  to  stop  and  speak,  and  that  would 
spoil  everything.  Come  !" 


XVII 

BURNAMY  paused  in  a  flow  of  autobi 
ography,  and  modestly  waited  for  Miss 
Triscoe's   prompting.     He   had   not    to 
wait  long. 

"And  then,  how  soon  did  you  think  of  print 
ing  your  things  in  a  book  ?" 

"  Oh,  about  as  soon  as  they  began  to  take 
with  the  public." 

"  How  could  you  tell  that  they  were — tak 
ing?" 

"  They  were  copied  into  other  papers,  and 
people  talked  about  them." 

"  And  that  was  what  made  Mr.  Stoller  want 
you  to  be  his  secretary  ?" 

"  I  don't  believe  it  was.  The  theory  in  the 
office  was  that  he  didn't  think  much  of  them  ; 
but  he  knows  that  I  can  write  short-hand,  and 
put  things  into  shape." 

"  What  things  ?" 

1 60 


"  Oh — ideas.  He  has  a  notion  of  trying  to 
come  forward  in  politics.  He  owns  shares  in 
everything  but  the  United  States  Senate — gas. 
electricity,  railroads,  aldermen,  newspapers — 
and  now  he  would  like  some  Senate.  That's 
what  I  think." 

She  did  not  quite  understand,  and  she  was 
far  from  knowing  that  this  cynic  humor  ex 
pressed  a  deadlier  pessimism  than  her  father's 
fiercest  accusals  of  the  country.  "  How  fasci 
nating  it  is!"  she  said,  innocently.  "And  I 
suppose  they  all  envy  your  coming  out?" 

"  In  the  office  ?" 

"Yes.     /should  envy  them — staying." 

Burnamy  laughed.  "  I  don't  believe  they 
envy  me.  It  won't  be  all  roses  for  me — they 
know  that.  But  they  know  that  I  can  take 
care  of  myself  if  it  isn't."  He  remembered 
something  one  of  his  friends  in  the  office  had 
said  of  the  painful  surprise  the  Bird  of  Prey 
would  feel  if  he  ever  tried  his  beak  on  him  in 
the  belief  that  he  was  soft. 

.She  abruptly  left  the  mere  personal  question. 
"And  which  would  you  rather  write:  poems, 
or  those  kind  of  sketches  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Burnamy,  willing  to 
talk  of  himself  on  any  terms.  "  I  suppose 
that  prose  is  the  thing  for  our  time,  rather 
more  ;  but  there  are  things  that  you  can't  say 
in  prose.  I  used  to  write  a  great  deal  of  verse 
in  college  ;  but  I  didn't  have  much  luck  with 
163 


editors  till  Mr.  March  took  this  little  piece  for 
Every  Other  Week." 

"  Little  ?    I  thought  it  was  a  long  poem  !" 

Burnamy  laughed  at  the  notion.  "  It's  only 
eight  lines." 

"Oh  !"  said  the  girl.     "What  is  it  about?" 

He  yielded  to  the  temptation  with  a  weak 
ness  which  he  found  incredible  in  a  person  of 
his  make.  "  I  can  repeat  it  if  you  won't  give 
me  away  to  Mrs.  March." 

"  Oh,  no  indeed  !"  He  said  the  lines  over  to 
her  very  simply  and  well.  "  They  are  beauti 
ful — beautiful  !" 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  he  gasped,  in  his  joy  at 
her  praise. 

"  Yes,  lovely.  Do  you  know,  you  are  the 
first  literary  man  —  the  only  literary  man  —  I 
ever  talked  with.  They  must  go  out — some 
where  !  Papa  must  meet  them  at  his  clubs. 
But  I  never  do  ;  and  so  I'm  making  the  most 
of  you." 

"  You  can't  make  too  much  of  me,  Miss  Tris- 
coe,"  said  Burnamy. 

She  would  not  mind  his  mocking.  "That 
day  you  spoke  about  TJic  Maiden  Knight,  don't 
you  know,  I  had  never  heard  any  one  talk  about 
books  in  that  way.  I  didn't  know  you  were  an 
author  then." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  much  of  an  author  now,"  he 
said,  cynically,  to  retrieve  his  folly  in  repeating 
his  poem  to  her. 

164 


"  Oh,  that  will  do  for  you  to  say.  But  I  know 
what  Mrs.  March  thinks." 

He  wished  very  much  to  know  what  Mrs. 
March  thought,  too  ;  Every  OtJier  Week  was 
such  a  very  good  place  that  he  could  not  con 
scientiously  neglect  any  means  of  having  his 
work  favorably  considered  there  ;  if  Mrs. 
March's  interest  in  it  would  act  upon  her  hus 
band,  ought  not  he  to  know  just  how  much 
she  thought  of  him  as  a  writer?  "Did  she 
like  the  poem  ?" 

Miss  Triscoe  could  not  recall  that  Mrs. 
March  had  said  anything  about  the  poem,  but 
she  launched  herself  upon  the  general  current 
of  Mrs.  March's  liking  for  Burnamy.  "But  it 
wouldn't  do  to  tell  you  all  she  said  !"  This 
was  not  what  he  hoped,  but  he  was  richly  con 
tent  when  she  returned  to  his  personal  history. 
"  And  you  didn't  know  any  one  when  you  went 
up  to  Chicago  from — 

"Tippecanoe?  Not  exactly  that.  I  wasn't 
acquainted  with  any  one  in  the  office,  but  they 
had  printed  some  things  of  mine,  and  they  were 
willing  to  let  me  try  my  hand.  That  was  all 
I  could  ask." 

"  Of  course  !  You  knew  you  could  do  the 
rest.  Well,  it  is  like  a  romance.  A  woman 
couldn't  have  such  an  adventure  as  that !" 
sighed  the  girl. 

"  But  women  do  !"  Burnamy  retorted. 
"There  is  a  girl  writing  on  the  paper  now 
165 


— she's  going  to  do  the  literary  notices  while 
I'm  gone  —  who  came  to  Chicago  from  Ann 
Arbor,  with  no  more  chance  than  I  had,  and 
who's  made  her  way  single-handed  from  inter 
viewing  up." 

"  Oh,"  said  Miss  Triscoe,  with  a  distinct  drop 
in  her  enthusiasm.  "  Is  she  nice  ?" 

"  She's  mighty  clever,  and  she's  nice  enough, 
too,  though  the  kind  of  journalism  that  wom 
en  do  isn't  the  most  dignified.  And  she's 
one  of  the  best  girls  I  know,  with  lots  of 
sense." 

"  It  must  be  very  interesting,"  said  Miss 
Triscoe,  with  little  interest  in  the  way  she 
said  it.  "  I  suppose  you're  quite  a  little  com 
munity  by  yourselves." 

"On  the  paper?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  some  of  us  know  one  another,  in  the 
office,  but  most  of  us  don't.  There's  quite  a 
regiment  of  people  on  a  big  paper.  If  you'd 
like  to  come  out,"  Burnamy  ventured,  "per 
haps  you  could  get  the  Woman's  Page  to 
do." 

"  What's  that  ?" 

"  Oh,  fashion  ;  and  personal  gossip  about 
society  leaders ;  and  recipes  for  dishes  and 
diseases  ;  and  correspondence  on  points  of  eti 
quette." 

He  expected  her  to   shudder  at  the  notion, 
but  she  merely  asked,  "  Do  women  write  it  ?" 
1 66 


He  laughed  reminiscently.  "Well,  not  al 
ways.  We  had  one  man  who  used  to  do  it 
beautifully  —  when  he  was  sober.  The  de 
partment  hasn't  had  any  permanent  head 
since." 

He  was  sorry  he  had  said  this,  but  it  did  not 
seem  to  shock  her,  and  no  doubt  she  had  not 
taken  it  in  fully.  She  abruptly  left  the  sub 
ject.  "  Do  you  know  what  time  we  really  get 
in  to-morrow  ?" 

"About  one,  I  believe — there's  a  consensus 
of  stewards  to  that  effect,  anyway."  After  a 
pause  he  asked,  "Are  you  likely  to  be  in  Carls 
bad  ?" 

"We  are  going  to  Dresden,  first,  I  believe. 
Then  we  may  go  on  down  to  Vienna.  But 
nothing  is  settled  yet.", 

"Are  you  going  direct  to  Dresden  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  We  may  stay  in  Hamburg 
a  day  or  two." 

"  I've  got  to  go  straight  to  Carlsbad.  There's 
a  sleeping-car  that  will  get  me  there  by  morn 
ing  :  Mr.  Stoller  likes  zeal.  But  I  hope  you'll 
let  me  be  of  use  to  you  any  way  I  can  before 
we  part  to-morrow." 

"  You're  very  kind.  You've  been  very  good 
already — to  papa."  He  protested  that  he  had 
not  been  at  all  good.  "  But  he's  used  to  taking 
care  of  himself  on  the  other  side.  Oh,  it's  this 
side,  now  !" 

"  So  it  is  !  How  strange  that  seems  !  It's 
167 


actually  Europe.  But  as  long  as  we're  at  sea, 
we  can't  realize  it.  Don't  you  hate  to  have 
experiences  slip  through  your  fingers  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  A  girl  doesn't  have  many 
experiences  of  her  own  :  they're  always  other 
people's." 

This  affected  Burnamy  as  so  profound  that 
he  did  not  question  its  truth.  He  only  sug 
gested,  "  Well,  sometimes  they  make  other 
people  have  the  experiences." 

Whether  Miss  Triscoe  decided  that  this  was 
too  intimate  or  not  she  left  the  question.  "Do 
you  understand  German  ?" 

"A  little.  I  studied  it  at  college,  and  I've 
cultivated  a  sort  of  beer  -  garden  German  in 
Chicago.  I  can  ask  for  things." 

"I  can't,  except  in  French,  and  that's  worse 
than  English,  in  Germany,  I  hear." 

"Then  you  must  let  me  be  your  interpreter 
up  to  the  last  moment.  Will  you  ?" 

She  did  not  answer.  "It  must  be  rather 
late,  isn't  it  ?"  she  asked.  He  let  her  see  his 
watch,  and  she  said,  "Yes,  it's  very  late,"  and 
led  the  way  within.  "  I  must  look  after  my 
packing ;  papa's  always  so  prompt,  and  I  must 
justify  myself  for  making  him  let  me  give  up 
my  maid  when  we  left  home  ;  we  expect  to  get 
one  in  Dresden.  Good-night !" 

Burnamy  looked  after  her  drifting  down  their 
corridor,  and  wondered  whether  it  would  have 
been  a  fit  return  for  her  expression  of  a  sense 
168 


of  novelty  in  him  as  a  literary  man  if  he  had 
told  her  that  she  was  the  first  young  lady  he 
had  known  who  had  a  maid.  The  fact  awed 
him  ;  Miss  Triscoe  herself  did  not  awe  him  so 
much. 


XVIII 

THE  next  morning  was  merely  a  transi 
tional  period,  full  of  turmoil  and  disor 
der,  between  the  broken  life  of  the  sea 
and  the  untried  life  of  the  shore.     No  one  at 
tempted  to  resume  the  routine  of  the  voyage. 
People  went  and  came  between  their  rooms 
and  the  saloons  and  the  decks,  and  were  no 
longer  careful  to  take  their  own  steamer  chairs 
when  they  sat  down  for  a  moment. 

In  the  cabins  the  berths  were  not  made  up, 
and  those  who  remained  below  had  to  sit  on 
their  hard  edges,  or  on  the  sofas,  which  were 
cumbered  with  hand-bags  and  rolls  of  shawls. 
At  an  early  hour  after  breakfast  the  bedroom 
stewards  began  to  get  the  steamer  trunks  out 
and  pile  them  in  the  corridors ;  the  servants 
all  became  more  caressingly  attentive  ;  and 
people  who  had  left  off  settling  the  amount  of 
the  fees  they  were  going  to  give,  anxiously 
170 


conferred  together.  The  question  whether 
you  ought  ever  to  give  the  head  steward  any 
thing  pressed  crucially  at  the  early  lunch,  and 
Kenby  brought  only  a  partial  relief  by  saying 
that  he  always  regarded  the  head  steward  as 
an  officer  of  the  ship.  March  made  the  experi 
ment  of  offering  him  six  marks,  and  the  head 
steward  took  them  quite  as  if  he  were  not  an 
officer  of  the  ship.  He  also  collected  a  hand 
some  fee  for  the  music,  which  is  the  tax  levied 
on  all  German  ships  beyond  the  tolls  exacted 
on  the  steamers  of  other  nations. 

After  lunch  the  low,  flat  shore  at  Cuxhaven 
was  so  near  that  the  summer  cottages  of  the 
little  watering-place  showed  through  the  warm 
drizzle  much  like  the  summer  cottages  of  our 
own  shore,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
strange,  low  sky,  the  Americans  might  easily 
have  fancied  themselves  at  home  again. 

Every  one  waited  on  foot  while  the  tender 
came  out  into  the  stream  where  the  Norumbia 
had  dropped  anchor.  People  who  had  brought 
their  hand  -  baggage  with  them  from  their 
rooms  looked  so  much  safer  with  it  that  people 
who  had  left  theirs  to  the  stewards  had  to  go 
back  and  pledge  them  afresh  not  to  forget  it. 
The  tender  came  alongside,  and  the  transfer  of 
the  heavy  trunks  began,  but  it  seemed  such  an 
endless  work  that  every  one  sat  down  in  some 
other's  chair.  At  last  the  trunks  were  all  on 
the  tender,  and  the  bareheaded  stewards  be- 
171 


gan  to  run  down  the  gangways  with  the  hand- 
baggage.  "  Is  this  Hoboken  ?"  March  mur 
mured  in  his  wife's  ear,  with  a  bewildered 
sense  of  something  in  the  scene  like  the  re 
versed  action  of  the  kinematograph. 

On  the  deck  of  the  tender  there  was  a  brief 
moment  of  reunion  among  the  companions  of 
the  voyage,  the  more  intimate  for  their  being 
crowded  together  under  cover  from  the  drizzle 
which  now  turned  into  a  dashing  rain.  Bur- 
namy's  smile  appeared,  and  then  Mrs.  March 
recognized  Miss  Triscoe  and  her  father  in 
their  travel  dress ;  they  were  not  far  from 
Burnamy's  smile,  but  he  seemed  rather  to  have 
charge  of  the  Eltwins,  whom  he  was  helping 
look  after  their  bags  and  bundles.  Rose  Ad 
ding  was  talking  with  Kenby,  and  apparently 
asking  his  opinion  of  something  ;  Mrs.  Adding 
sat  near  them,  tranquilly  enjoying  her  son. 

Mrs.  March  made  her  husband  identify  their 
baggage,  large  and  small,  and  after  he  had  sat 
isfied  her,  he  furtively  satisfied  himself  by  a 
fresh  count  that  it  was  all  there.  But  he  need 
not  have  taken  the  trouble  ;  their  long,  calm 
bedroom-steward  was  keeping  guard  over  it  ; 
his  eyes  expressed  a  contemptuous  pity  for 
their  anxiety,  whose  like  he  must  have  been 
very  tired  of.  He  brought  their  hand-bags 
into  the  customs -room  at  the  station  where 
they  landed,  and  there  took  a  last  leave  and  a 
last  fee  with  unexpected  cordiality. 
172 


Again  their  companionship  suffered  eclipse 
in  the  distraction  which  the  customs  inspectors 
of  all  countries  bring  to  travellers  ;  and  again 
they  were  united  during  the  long  delay  in  the 
waiting-room,  which  was  also  the  restaurant. 
It  was  full  of  strange  noises  and  figures  and 
odors — the  shuffling  of  feet,  the  clash  of  crock 
ery,  the  explosion  of  nervous  German  voices, 
mixed  with  the  smell  of  beer  and  ham,  and  the 
smoke  of  cigars.  Through  it  all  pierced  the 
wail  of  a  postman  standing  at  the  door  with  a 
letter  in  his  hand  and  calling  out  at  regular 
intervals,  "  Krahnay,  Krahnay  !"  When  March 
could  bear  it  no  longer  he  went  up  to  him  and 
shouted,  "Crane  !  Crane  !"  and  the  man  bowed 
gratefully,  and  began  to  cry,  "  Kren  !  Kren  !" 
But  whether  Mr.  Crane  got  his  letter  or  not, 
he  never  knew. 

People  were  swarming  at  the  window  of  the 
telegraph-office,  and  sending  home  cablegrams 
to  announce  their  safe  arrival  ;  March  could 
not  forbear  cabling  to  his  son,  though  he  felt 
it  absurd.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  talking, 
but  no  laughing,  except  among  the  Americans, 
and  the  girls  behind  the  bar  who  tried  to  under 
stand  what  they  wanted,  and  then  served  them 
with  what  they  chose  for  them.  Otherwise  the 
Germans,  though  voluble,  were  unsmiling,  and 
here  on  the  threshold  of  their  empire  the  trav 
ellers  had  their  first  hint  of  the  anxious  mood 
which  seems  habitual  with  these  amiable  people. 
i73 


Mrs.  Adding  came  screaming  with  glee  to 
March  where  he  sat  with  his  wife,  and  leaned 
over  her  son  to  ask,  "  Do  you  know  what 
lese-majesty  is  ?  Rose  is  afraid  I've  commit 
ted  it  !" 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  March.  "But  it's  the 
unpardonable  sin.  What  have  you  been  do 
ing?" 

"  I  asked  the  official  at  the  door  when  our 
train  would  start,  and  when  he  said  at  half-past 
three,  I  said,  '  How  tiresome  !'  Rose  says  the 
railroads  belong  to  the  state  here,  and  that  if 
I  find  fault  with  the  time-table,  it's  construc 
tive  censure  of  the  Emperor,  and  that's  lese- 
majesty."  She  gave  way  to  her  mirth,  while 
the  boy  studied  March's  face  with  an  appeal 
ing  smile. 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  you'll  be  arrested  this 
time,  Mrs.  Adding  ;  but  I  hope  it  will  be  a 
warning  to  Mrs.  March.  She's  been  complain 
ing  of  the  coffee." 

"  Indeed  I  shall  say  what  I  like,"  said  Mrs. 
March.  "  I'm  an  American." 

"Well,  you'll  find  you're  a  German,  if  you 
like  to  say  anything  disagreeable  about  the 
coffee  in  the  restaurant  of  the  Emperor's 
railroad  station  ;  the  first  thing  you  know 
I  shall  be  given  three  months  on  your  ac 
count." 

Mrs.  Adding  asked  :  "  Then  they  won't  pun 
ish  ladies  ?  There,  Rose  !  I'm  safe,  you  see  ; 


and  you're  still  a  minor,  though  you  are  so 
wise  for  your  years." 

She  went  back  to  her  table,  where  Kenby 
came  and  sat  down  by  her. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  quite  like  her  playing 
on  that  sensitive  child,"  said  Mrs.  March. 
"And  you've  joined  with  her  in  her  joking. 
Go  and  speak  to  him." 

The  boy  was  slowly  following  his  mother, 
with  his  head  fallen.  March  overtook  him, 
and  he  started  nervously  at  the  touch  of  a 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  then  looked  grate 
fully  up  into  the  man's  face.  March  tried  to 
tell  him  what  the  crime  of  lese-majesty  was,  and 
he  said  :  "  Oh  yes.  I  understood  that.  But  I 
got  to  thinking  ;  and  I  don't  want  my  mother 
to  take  any  risks." 

"I  don't  believe  she  will;  really,  Rose.  But 
I'll  speak  to  her,  and  tell  her  she  can't  be  too 
cautious." 

"  Not  now,  please,"  the  boy  entreated. 

"Well,  I'll  find  another  chance,"  March  as 
sented.  He  looked  round  and  caught  a  smil 
ing  nod  from  Burnamy,  who  was  still  with  the 
Eltwins ;  the  Triscoes  were  at  a  table  by 
themselves  ;  Miss  Triscoe  nodded  too,  but  her 
father  appeared  not  to  see  March.  "  It's  all 
right  with  Rose,"  he  said,  when  he  sat  down 
again  by  his  wife;  "but  I  guess  it's  all  over 
with  Burnamy,"  and  he  told  her  what  he  had 
seen.  "  Do  you  think  it  came  to  any  dis- 


pleasure  between  them  last  night  ?  Do  you 
suppose  he  offered  himself,  and  she — 

"  What  nonsense  !"  said  Mrs.  March,  but  she 
was  not  at  peace.  "  It's  her  father  who's  keep 
ing  her  away  from  him." 

"  I  shouldn't  mind  that.  He's  keeping  her 
away  from  us,  too."  But  at  that  moment  Miss 
Triscoe,  as  if  she  had  followed  his  return  from 
afar,  came  over  to  speak  to  his  wife.  She  said 
they  were  going  on  to  Dresden  that  evening, 
and  she  was  afraid  they  might  have  no  chance 
to  see  each  other  on  the  train  or  in  Hamburg. 
March,  at  this  advance,  went  to  speak  with  her 
father  ;  he  found  him  no  more  reconciled  to 
Europe  than  America. 

;'  They're  Goths,"  he  said  of  the  Germans. 
"  I  could  hardly  get  that  stupid  brute  in  the 
telegraph-office  to  take  my  despatch." 

On  his  way  back  to  his  wife  March  met 
Miss  Triscoe  ;  he  was  not  altogether  surprised 
to  meet  Burnamy  with  her,  now.  The  young 
fellow  asked  if  he  could  be  of  any  use  to  him, 
and  then  he  said  he  would  look  him  up  in  the 
train.  He  seemed  in  a  hurry,  but  when  he 
walked  away  with  Miss  Triscoe  he  did  not 
seem  in  a  hurry. 

March  remarked  upon  the  change  to  his 
wife,  and  she  sighed,  "  Yes,  you  can  see  that  as 
far  as  tJiey'rc  concerned — 

"  It's  a  great  pity  that  there  should  be  par 
ents  to  complicate  these  affairs,"  he  said. 
176 


"  How  simple  it  would  be  if  there  were  no 
parties  to  them  but  the  lovers  !  But  nature  is 
always  insisting  upon  fathers  and  mothers,  and 
families  on  both  sides." 


XIX 


THE  long  train  which  they  took  at  last 
was  for  the  Norumbia's  people  alone, 
and  it  was  of  several  transitional  and 
tentative  types  of  cars.  Some  were  still  the 
old  coach-body  carriages  ;  but  most  were  of  a 
strange  corridor  arrangement,  with  the  aisle 
at  the  side,  and  the  seats  crossing  from  it, 
with  compartments  sometimes  rising  to  the 
roof,  and  sometimes  rising  half-way.  No  two 
cars  seemed  quite  alike,  but  all  were  very  com 
fortable  ;  and  when  the  train  began  to  run  out 
through  the  little  sea-side  town  into  the  coun 
try,  the  old  delight  of  strange  travel  began. 
Most  of  the  houses  were  little  and  low  and 
gray,  with  ivy  or  flowering  vines  covering 
their  walls  to  their  brown -tiled  roofs;  there 
was  here  and  there  a  touch  of  Northern  Gothic 
in  the  architecture  ;  but  usually  where  it  was 
pretentious  it  was  in  the  mansard  taste,  which 
178 


was  so  bad  with  us  a  generation  ago,  and  is 
still  very  bad  in  Cuxhaven. 

The  fields,  flat  and  wide,  were  dotted  with 
familiar  shapes  of  Holstein  cattle,  herded  by 
little  girls,  with  their  hair  in  yellow  pigtails. 
The  gray,  stormy  sky  hung  low,  and  broke  in 
fitful  rains ;  but  perhaps  for  the  inclement 
season  of  mid -summer  it  was  not  very  cold. 
Flowers  were  blooming  along  the  embank 
ments  and  in  the  rank  green  fields  with  a 
dogged  energy ;  in  the  various  distances  were 
groups  of  trees  embowering  cottages  and  even 
villages,  and  always  along  the  ditches  and 
watercourses  were  double  lines  of  low  willows. 
At  the  first  stop  the  train  made,  the  passen 
gers  flocked  to  the  refreshment -booth,  pret 
tily  arranged  beside  the  station,  where  the 
abundance  of  the  cherries  and  strawberries 
gave  proof  that  vegetation  was  in  other  re 
spects  superior  to  the  elements.  But  it  was 
not  of  the  profusion  of  the  sausages,  and  the 
ham  which  openly  in  slices  or  covertly  in  sand 
wiches  claimed  its  primacy  in  the  German  af 
fections  ;  every  form  of  it  was  flanked  by  tall 
glasses  of  beer. 

A  number  of  the  natives  stood  by  and  stared 
unsmiling  at  the  train,  which  had  broken  out 
in  a  rash  of  little  American  flags  at  every  win 
dow.  This  boyish  display,  which  must  have 
made  the  Americans  themselves  laugh,  if  their 
sense  of  humor  had  not  been  lost  in  their  im- 
179 


passioned  patriotism,  was  the  last  expression 
of  unity  among  the  NormnbicCs  passengers,  and 
they  met  no  more  in  their  sea -solidarity.  Of 
their  table  acquaintances  the  Marches  saw  no 
one  except  Burnamy,  who  came  through  the 
train  looking  for  them.  He  said  he  was  in  one 
of  the  rear  cars  with  the  Eltwins,  and  was  go 
ing  to  Carlsbad  with  them  in  the  sleeping-car 
train  leaving  Hamburg  at  seven.  He  owned 
to  having  seen  the  Triscoes  since  they  had  left 
Cuxhaven  ;  Mrs.  March  would  not  suffer  her 
self  to  ask  him  whether  they  were  in  the  same 
carriage  with  the  Eltwins.  He  had  got  a  letter 
from  Mr.  Stoller  at  Cuxhaven,  and  he  begged 
the  Marches  to  let  him  engage  rooms  for  them 
at  the  hotel  where  he  was  going  to  stay  with 
his  employer. 

After  they  reached  Hamburg  they  had  flying 
glimpses  of  him  and  of  others  in  the  odious 
rivalry  to  get  their  baggage  examined  first 
which  seized  upon  all,  and  in  which  they  no 
longer  knew  each  other,  but  selfishly  struggled 
for  the  good -will  of  porters  and  inspectors. 
There  was  really  no  such  haste  ;  but  none  could 
govern  themselves  against  the  general  frenzy. 
With  the  porter  he  secured  March  conspired 
and  perspired  to  win  the  attention  of  a  cold  but 
not  unkindly  inspector.  The  officer  opened 
one  trunk,  and  after  a  glance  at  it  marked  all 
as  passed,  and  then  there  ensued  a  heroic  strife 
with  the  porter  as  to  the  pieces  which  were  to 
1 80 


go  to  the  Berlin  station  for  their  journey  next 
day,  and  the  pieces  which  were  to  go  to  the 
hotel  overnight.  At  last  the  division  was 
made  ;  the  Marches  got  into  a  cab  of  the  first 
class  ;  and  the  porter,  crimson  and  steaming  at 
every  pore  from  the  physical  and  intellectual 
strain,  went  back  into  the  station. 

They  had  got  the  number  of  their  cab  from 
the  policeman  who  stands  at  the  door  of  all 
large  German  stations  and  supplies  the  travel 
ler  with  a  metallic  check  for  the  sort  of  vehicle 
he  demands.  They  were  not  proud,  but  it 
seemed  best  not  to  risk  a  second-class  cab  in  a 
strange  city,  and  when  their  first-class  cab 
came  creaking  and  limping  out  of  the  rank, 
they  saw  how  wise  they  had  been,  if  one  of  the 
second  class  could  have  been  worse. 

As  they  rattled  away  from  the  station  they 
saw  yet  another  kind  of  turnout,  which  they 
were  destined  to  see  more  and  more  in  the 
German  lands.  It  was  that  team  of  a  woman 
harnessed  with  a  dog  to  a  cart  which  the 
Women  of  no  other  country  can  see  without 
a  sense  of  personal  insult.  March  tried  to  take 
the  humorous  view,  and  complained  that  they 
had  not  been  offered  the  choice  of  such  an 
equipage  by  the  policeman,  but  his  wife  would 
not  be  amused.  She  said  that  no  place 
which  suffered  such  a  thing  could  be  truly 
civilized,  though  he  made  her  observe  that  no 
city  in  the  world,  except  Boston  or  Brooklyn, 
183 


was  probably  so  thoroughly  trolleyed  as  Ham 
burg.  The  hum  of  the  electric  car  was  every 
where,  and  everywhere  the  shriek  of  the  wires 
overhead  ;  batlike  flights  of  connecting  plates 
traversed  all  the  perspectives  through  which 
they  drove  to  the  pleasant  little  hotel  they  had 
chosen. 


XX 


ON  one  hand  their  windows  gave  upon 
a  basin  of  the  Elbe,  where  stately  white 
swans  were  sailing  ;  and  on  the  other 
to  the  new  Rathhaus,  over  the  trees  that  deeply 
shaded  the  perennial  mud  of  a  cold,  dim  public 
garden,  where  water-proof  old  women  and  im 
pervious  nurses  sat,  and  children  played  in  the 
long  twilight  of  the  sour,  rain-soaked  summer 
of  the  father-land.  It  was  all  picturesque,  and 
within -doors  there  was  the  novelty  of  the 
meagre  carpets  and  stalwart  furniture  of  the 
Germans,  and  their  beds,  which  after  so  many 
ages  of  Anglo-Saxon  satire  remain  immutably 
preposterous.  They  are  apparently  imagined 
for  the  stature  of  sleepers  who  have  shortened 
as  they  broadened ;  their  pillows  are  trian 
gularly  shaped  to  bring  the  chin  tight  upon 
the  breast  under  the  bloated  feather  bulk 
which  is  meant  for  covering,  and  which  rises 
185 


over  the  sleeper  from  a  thick  substratum  of 
cotton  coverlet,  neatly  buttoned  into  the  upper 
sheet,  with  the  effect  of  a  portly  waistcoat. 

The  hotel  was  illumined  by  the  kindly  splen 
dor  of  the  uniformed  portier,  who  had  met  the 
travellers  at  the  door,  like  a  glowing  vision 
of  the  past,  and  a  friendly  air  diffused  itself 
through  the  whole  house.  At  the  dinner, 
which,  if  not  so  cheap  as  they  had  somehow 
hoped,  was  by  no  means  bad,  they  took  counsel 
with  the  English-speaking  waiter  as  to  what 
entertainment  Hamburg  could  offer  for  the 
evening,  and  by  the  time  they  had  drunk  their 
coffee  they  had  courage  for  the  Circus  Renz, 
which  seemed  to  be  all  there  was. 

The  conductor  of  the  trolley-car,  which  they 
hailed  at  the  street  corner,  stopped  it  and  got 
off  the  platform,  and  stood  in  the  street  till 
they  were  safely  aboard,  without  telling  them 
to  step  lively,  or  pulling  them  up  the  steps,  or 
knuckling  them  in  the  back  to  make  them 
move  forward.  He  let  them  get  fairly  seated 
before  he  started  the  car,  and  so  lost  the  fun 
of  seeing  them  lurch  and  stagger  violently, 
and  wildly  clutch  each  other  for  support.  The 
Germans  have  so  little  sense  of  humor  that 
probably  no  one  in  the  car  would  have  been 
amused  to  see  the  strangers  flung  upon  the 
floor.  No  one  apparently  found  it  droll  that 
the  conductor  should  touch  his  cap  to  them 
when  he  asked  for  their  fare  ;  no  one  smiled 
186 


at  their  efforts  to  make  him  understand  where 
they  wished  to  go,  and  he  did  not  wink  at  the 
other  passengers  in  trying  to  find  out.  When 
ever  the  car  stopped  he  descended  first,  and 
did  not  remount  till  the  passenger  had  taken 
time  to  get  well  away  from  it.  When  the 
Marches  got  into  the  wrong  car  in  coming 
home,  and  were  carried  beyond  their  street, 
the  conductor  would  not  take  their  fare. 

The  kindly  civility  which  environed  them 
went  far  to  alleviate  the  inclemency  of  the 
climate ;  it  began  to  rain  as  soon  as  they  left 
the  shelter  of  the  car,  but  a  citizen  of  whom 
they  asked  the  nearest  way  to  the  Circus  Renz 
was  so  anxious  to  have  them  go  aright  that 
they  did  not  mind  the  wet,  and  the  thought  of 
his  goodness  embittered  March's  self-reproach 
for  under-tipping  the  sort  of  gorgeous  heyduk, 
with  a  staff  like  a  drum-major's,  who  left  his 
place  at  the  circus  door  to  get  their  tickets. 
He  brought  them  back  with  a  magnificent 
bow,  and  was  then  as  visibly  disappointed  with 
the  share  of  the  change  returned  to  him  as  a 
child  would  have  been. 

They  went  to  their  places  with  the  sting  of 
his  disappointment  rankling  in  their  hearts. 
"One  ought  always  to  overpay  them,"  March 
sighed,  "  and  I  will  do  it  from  this  time  forth  ; 
we  shall  not  be  much  the  poorer  for  it.  This 
heyduk  is  not  going  to  get  off  with  less  than  a 
mark  when  we  come  out."  As  an  earnest  of 
187 


his  good  faith  he  gave  the  old  man  who 
showed  them  to  their  box  a  tip  that  made  him 
bow  double,  and  he  bought  every  conceivable 
libretto  and  play  -  bill  offered  him  at  prices 
fixed  by  his  remorse.  "  One  ought  to  do  it,"  he 
said.  "  We  are  of  the  quality  of  good  geniuses 
to  these  poor  souls  ;  we  are  Fortune — in  dis 
guise  ;  we  are  money  found  in  the  road.  It  is 
an  accursed  system,  but  they  are  more  its 
victims  than  we."  His  wife  quite  agreed  with 
him,  and  with  the  same  good  conscience  be 
tween  them  they  gave  themselves  up  to  the 
pure  joy  which  the  circus,  of  all  modern  enter 
tainments,  seems  alone  to  inspire.  The  house 
was  full  from  floor  to  roof  when  they  came  in, 
and  every  one  was  intent  upon  the  two  Spanish 
clowns,  Lui-Lui  and  Soltamontes,  whose  droll 
eries  spoke  the  universal  language  of  circus 
humor,  and  needed  no  translation  either  into 
German  or  English.  They  had  missed  by  an 
event  or  two  the  more  patriotic  attraction  of 
"Miss  Darlings,  the  american  Star,"  as  she  was 
billed  in  English,  but  they  were  in  good  time 
for  one  of  those  equestrian  performances  which 
leave  the  spectator  almost  exanimate  from  their 
prolixity,  and  for  the  pantomimic  piece  which 
closed  the  evening. 

This  was  not  given  until  nearly  the  whole 
house  had  gone  out  and  stayed  itself  with  beer 
and  cheese  and  ham  and  sausage,  in  the  res 
taurant    which    purveys    these    light    refresh- 
188 


ments  in  the  summer  theatres  all  over  Ger 
many.  When  the  people  came  back  gorged  to 
the  throat,  they  sat  down  in  the  right  mood  to 
enjoy  the  allegory  of  "the  Enchantedmoun- 
tain's  Fantasy ;  the  Mountainepisodes ;  the 
Highinteresting  Sledges-Courses  on  the  Steep 
Acclivities;  the  Amazing  Uprush  of  the  thence- 
plunging  Four  Trains,  which  arrive  with  Light- 
ningsswiftness  at  the  Top  of  the  over-4o-feet- 
high  Mountain  ;  the  Highest  Triumph  of  the 
To-day's  Circus-Art ;  the  Sledgejourney  in  the 
Wiz'ardmountain,  and  the  Fairy  Ballet  in  the 
Realm  of  the  Ghostprince,  with  Gold  and  Silver, 
Jewel,  Bloomghosts,  Gnomes,  Gnomesses,  and 
Dwarfs,  in  never -till -now -seen  Splendor  of 
Costume."  The  Marches  were  happy  in  this 
allegory,  and  happier  in  the  ballet,  which  is 
everywhere  delightfully  innocent,  and  which 
here  appealed  with  the  large  flat  feet  and  the 
plain  good  faces  of  the  corypliees  to  all  that 
was  simplest  and  sweetest  in  their  natures. 
They  could  not  have  resisted,  if  they  had 
wished,  that  environment  of  good-will ;  and  if 
it  had  not  been  for  the  disappointed  heyduk, 
they  would  have  gone  home  from  their  even 
ing  at  the  Circus  Renz  without  a  pang. 

They  looked  for  him  everywhere  when  they 
came  out,  but  he  had  vanished,  and  they  were 
left  with  a  regret  which  if  unavailing  was  not 
too  poignant.  In  spite  of  it  they  had  still  an 
exhilaration  in  their  release  from  the  compan- 
191 


ionship  of  their  fellow  -  voyagers,  which  they 
analyzed  as  the  psychical  revulsion  from  the 
strain  of  too  great  interest  in  them.  Mrs. 
March  declared  that  for  the  present,  at  least, 
she  wanted  Europe  quite  to  themselves  ;  and 
she  said  that  not  even  for  the  pleasure  of  see 
ing  Burnamy  and  Miss  Triscoe  come  into  their 
box  together  would  she  have  suffered  an  Amer 
ican  trespass  upon  their  exclusive  possession  of 
the  Circus  Renz. 

In  the  audience  she  had  seen  German  officers 
for  the  first  time  in  Hamburg,  and  she  meant, 
if  unremitting  question  could  bring  out  the 
truth,  to  know  why  she  had  not  met  any  more. 
She  had  read  much  of  the  prevalence  and  pre- 
potence  of  the  German  officers  who  would  try  to 
push  her  off  the  sidewalk,  till  they  realized  that 
she  was  an  American  woman,  and  would  then 
submit  to  her  inflexible  purpose  of  holding  it. 
But  she  had  been  some  seven  or  eight  hours  in 
Hamburg,  and  nothing  of  the  kind  had  hap 
pened  to  her,  perhaps  because  she  had  hardly 
yet  walked  a  block  in  the  city  streets,  but  per 
haps  also  because  there  seemed  to  be  very  few 
officers  or  military  of  any  kind  in  Hamburg. 


XXI 

THEIR  absence  was  plausibly  explained, 
the  next  morning,  by  the  young  German 
friend  who  came  to  see  the  Marches  at 
breakfast.  He  said  that  Hamburg  had  been  so 
long  a  free  republic  that  the  presence  of  a  large 
imperial  garrison  was  distasteful  to  the  peo 
ple,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  there  were  few 
soldiers  quartered  there,  whether  the  authori 
ties  chose  to  indulge  the  popular  grudge  or 
not.  He  was  himself  in  a  joyful  flutter  of 
spirits,  for  he  had  just  the  day  before  got  his 
release  from  military  service.  He  gave  them 
a  notion  of  what  the  rapture  of  a  man  re 
prieved  from  death  might  be,  and  he  was  as 
radiantly  happy  in  the  ill  health  which  had 
got  him  his  release  as  if  it  had  been  the  great 
est  blessing  of  heaven.  He  bubbled  over  with 
smiling  regrets  that  he  should  be  leaving  his 
home  for  the  first  stage  of  the  journey  which 
N  193 


he  was  to  take  in  search  of  strength,  and  he 
pressed  them  to  say  if  there  was  not  some 
thing  that  he  could  do  for  them. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  March,  with  a  promptness 
surprising  to  her  husband,  who  could  think  of 
nothing,  "tell  us  where  Heinrich  Heine  lived 
when  he  was  in  Hamburg.  My  husband  has 
always  had  a  great  passion  for  him,  and  wants 
to  look  him  up  everywhere." 

March  had  forgotten  that  Heine  ever  lived 
in  Hamburg,  and  the  young  man  had  appar 
ently  never  known  it.  His  face  fell ;  he  wished 
to  make  Mrs.  March  believe  that  it  was  only 
Heine's  uncle  who  had  lived  there  ;  but  she 
was  firm  ,  and  when  he  had  asked  among  the 
hotel  people  he  came  back  gladly  owning  that 
he  was  wrong,  and  that  the  poet  used  to  live 
in  Konigstrasse,  which  was  very  near  by,  and 
where  they  could  easily  know  the  house  by  his 
bust  set  in  its  front.  The  porticr  and  the  head 
waiter  shared  his  ecstasy  in  so  easily  obliging 
the  friendly  American  pair,  and  joined  him  in 
minutely  instructing  the  driver  when  they 
shut  them  into  their  carriage. 

They  did  not  know  that  his  was  almost  the 
only  laughing  face  they  should  see  in  the 
serious  German  Empire  ;  just  as  they  did  not 
know  that  it  rained  there  every  day.  As  they 
drove  off  in  the  gray  drizzle  with  the  un 
founded  hope  that  sooner  or  later  the  weather 
would  be  fine,  they  bade  their  driver  be  very 
194 


HE   BUBBLED    OVER    WITH    SMILING    REGRETS 


slow  in  taking  them  through  Konigstrasse,  so 
that  he  should  by  no  means  miss  Heine's 
dwelling,  and  he  duly  stopped  in  front  of  a 
house  bearing  the  promised  bust.  They  dis 
mounted  in  order  to  revere  it  more  at  their 
ease,  but  the  bust  proved,  by  an  irony  bitterer 
than  the  sick,  heart-breaking,  brilliant  Jew 
could  have  imagined  in  his  crudest  moment, 
to  be  that  of  the  German  Milton,  the  respect 
able  poet  Klopstock,  whom  Heine  abhorred 
and  mocked  so  pitilessly 

In  fact,  it  was  here  that  the  good,  much-for 
gotten  Klopstock  dwelt,  when  he  came  home 
to  live  on  a  comfortable  pension  from  the 
Danish  government ;  and  the  pilgrims  to  the 
mistaken  shrine  went  asking  about  among  the 
neighbors  in  Konigstrasse  for  some  manner  of 
house  where  Heine  might  have  lived  ;  they 
would  have  been  willing  to  accept  a  flat,  or 
any  sort  of  two -pair  back.  The  neighbors 
were  somewhat  moved  by  the  anxiety  of  the 
strangers  ;  but  they  were  not  so  much  moved 
as  neighbors  in  Italy  would  have  been.  There 
was  no  eager  and  smiling  sympathy  in  the  lit 
tle  crowd  that  gathered  to  see  what  was  going 
on  ;  they  were  patient  of  question  and  kind  in 
their  helpless  response,  but  they  were  not  gay. 
To  a  man  they  had  not  heard  of  Heine  ;  even 
the  owner  of  a  sausage  and  blood-pudding  shop 
across  the  way  had  not  heard  of  him  ;  the 
clerk  of  a  stationer-and-bookseller's  next  to  the 
197 


butcher's  had  heard  of  him,  but  he  had  never 
heard  that  he  lived  in  Konigstrasse  ;  he  never 
had  heard  where  he  lived  in  Hamburg. 

The  pilgrims  to  the  fraudulent  shrine  got 
back  into  their  carriage,  and  drove  sadly  away, 
instructing  their  driver  with  the  rigidity  which 
their  limited  German  favored  not  to  let  any 
house  with  a  bust  in  its  front  escape  him.  He 
promised,  and  took  his  course  out  through 
Konigstrasse,  and  suddenly  they  found  them 
selves  in  a  world  of  such  eld  and  quaintness 
that  they  forgot  Heine  as  completely  as  any 
of  his  countrymen  had  done.  They  were  in 
steep  and  narrow  streets,  that  crooked  and 
turned  with  no  apparent  purpose  of  leading 
anywhere,  among  houses  that  looked  down 
upon  them  with  an  astonished  stare  from  the 
leaden -sashed  windows  of  their  timber -laced 
gables.  The  fagades  with  their  lattices  stretch 
ing  in  bands  quite  across  them,  and  with  their 
steep  roofs  climbing  high  in  successions  of 
blinking  dormers,  were  more  richly  mediaeval 
than  anything  the  travellers  had  ever  dreamt 
of  before,  and  they  feasted  themselves  upon  the 
unimagined  picturesqueness  with  a  leisurely 
minuteness  which  brought  responsive  gazers 
everywhere  to  the  windows  ;  windows  were  set 
ajar ;  shop  doors  were  darkened  by  curious 
figures  from  within,  and  the  traffic  of  the  tort 
uous  alleys  was  interrupted  by  their  progress. 
They  could  not  have  said  which  delighted  them 


A   STREET   IN   HAMBURG 


more — the  houses  in  the  immediate  foreground, 
or  the  sharp  high  gables  in  the  perspectives 
and  the  background  ;  but  all  were  like  the 
painted  scenes  of  the  stage,  and  they  had  a 
pleasant  difficulty  in  realizing  that  they  were 
not  persons  in  some  romantic  drama. 

The  illusion  remained  with  them  and  qualified 
the  impression  which  Hamburg  made  by  her 
much-trolleyed  Bostonian  effect ;  by  the  deco 
rous  activity  and  Parisian  architecture  of  her 
business  streets  ;  by  the  turmoil  of  her  quays, 
and  the  innumerable  masts  and  chimneys  of 
her  shipping.  At  the  heart  of  all  was  that 
quaintness,  that  picturesqueness  of  the  past, 
which  embodied  the  spirit  of  the  old  Hanseatic 
city,  and  seemed  the  expression  of  the  home- 
side  of  her  history.  The  sense  of  this  gained 
strength  from  such  slight  study  of  her  annals 
as  they  afterwards  made,  and  assisted  the 
digestion  of  some  of  the  toughest  statistics. 
In  the  shadow  of  those  Gothic  houses  the  fact 
that  Hamburg  was  one  of  the  greatest  coffee 
marts  and  money  marts  of  the  world  had  a 
romantic  glamour  ;  and  the  fact  that  in  the 
four  years  from  1870  till  1874  a  quarter  of  a 
million  emigrants  sailed  on  her  ships  for  the 
United  States  seemed  to  stretch  a  nerve  of 
kindred  feeling  from  those  mediaeval  streets 
through  the  whole  dreary  length  of  Third  Ave 
nue. 

It  was  perhaps  in  this  glamour,  or  this  feel- 
20 1 


ing  of  commercial  solidarity,  that  March  went 
to  have  a  look  at  the  Hamburg  Bourse,  in  the 
beautiful  new  Rathhaus.  It  was  not  under 
going  repairs,  it  was  too  new  for  that  ;  but  it 
was  in  construction,  and  so  it  fulfilled  the  func 
tion  of  a  public  edifice,  in  withholding  its  entire 
interest  from  the  stranger.  He  could  not  get 
into  the  Senate-Chamber  ;  but  the  Bourse  was 
free  to  him,  and  when  he  stepped  within,  it  rose 
at  him  with  a  roar  of  voices  and  a  sound  of  feet 
like  the  New  York  Stock  Exchange.  The  spec 
tacle  was  not  so  frantic  ;  people  were  not  shak 
ing  their  fists  or  fingers  in  each  other's  noses  ; 
but  they  were  all  wild  in  the  tamer  German 
way,  and  he  was  glad  to  mount  from  the  Bourse 
to  the  poor  little  art  gallery  up-stairs,  and  to 
shut  out  its  clamor.  He  was  not  so  glad  when 
he  looked  round  on  these,  his  first  examples 
of  modern  German  art.  The  custodian  led  him 
gently  about  and  said  which  things  were  for 
sale,  and  it  made  his  heart  ache  to  see  how  bad 
they  were,  and  to  think  that,  bad  as  they  were, 
he  could  not  buy  any  of  them. 


XXII 


IN  the  start  from  Cuxhaven  the  passengers 
had  the  irresponsible  ease  of  people  ticket 
ed  through,  and  the  steamship  company 
had  still  the  charge  of  their  baggage.  But 
when  the  Marches  left  Hamburg  for  Leipsic 
(where  they  had  decided  to  break  the  long  pull 
to  Carlsbad),  all  the  anxieties  of  European  trav 
el,  dimly  remembered  from  former  European 
days,  offered  themselves  for  recognition.  A 
porter  vanished  with  their  hand-baggage  be 
fore  they  could  note  any  trait  in  him  for  iden 
tification  ;  other  porters  made  away  with  their 
trunks  ;  and  the  interpreter  who  helped  March 
buy  his  tickets,  with  a  vocabulary  of  strictly 
railroad  English,  had  to  help  him  find  the  pieces 
in  the  baggage-room,  curiously  estranged  in  a 
mountain  of  alien  boxes.  One  official  weighed 
them  ;  another  obliged  him  to  pay  as  much  in 
freight  as  for  a  third  passenger,  and  gave  him 
203 


an  illegible  scrap  of  paper  which  recorded  their 
number  and  destination.  The  interpreter  and 
the  porters  took  their  fees  with  a  professional 
effect  of  dissatisfaction,  and  he  went  to  wait 
with  his  wife  amidst  the  smoking  and  eating 
and  drinking  in  the  restaurant.  They  burst 
through  with  the  rest  when  the  doors  were 
opened  to  the  train,  and  followed  a  glimpse  of 
the  porter  with  their  hand-bags,  as  he  ran  down 
the  platform,  still  bent  upon  escaping  them,  and 
brought  him  to  bay  at  last  in  a  car  where  he  had 
got  very  good  seats  for  them,  and  sank  into  their 
places,  hot  and  humiliated  by  their  needless 
tumult. 

As  they  cooled,  they  recovered  their  self-re 
spect,  and  renewed  a  youthful  joy  in  some  of 
the  long-estranged  facts  The  road  was  rougher 
than  the  roads  at  home  ;  but  for  much  less 
money  they  had  the  comfort,  without  the  un 
availing  splendor,  of  a  Pullman  in  their  sec 
ond-class  carriage.  Mrs  March  had  expected 
to  be  used  with  the  severity  on  the  imperial 
railroads  which  she  had  failed  to  experience 
from  the  military  on  the  Hamburg  sidewalks, 
but  nothing  could  be  kindlier  than  the  whole 
management  towards  her.  Her  fellow-travel 
lers  were  not  lavish  of  their  rights,  as  Ameri 
cans  are  ;  what  they  got,  that  they  kept  ;  and 
in  the  run  from  Hamburg  to  Leipsic  she  had 
several  occasions  to  observe  that  no  German, 
however  strong  or  robust,  dreams  of  offering  a 
204 


better  place,  if  he  has  one,  to  a  lady  in  grace  to 
her  sex  or  age  ;  if  they  got  into  a  carriage  too 
late  to  secure  a  forward-looking  seat,  she  rode 
backward  to  the  end  of  that  stage.  But  if  they 
appealed  to  their  fellow-travellers  for  informa 
tion  about  changes,  or  stops,  or  any  of  the  little 
facts  that  they  wished  to  make  sure  of,  they 
were  enlightened  past  possibility  of  error.  At 
the  point  where  they  might  have  gone  wrong 
the  explanations  were  renewed  with  a  thought- 
fulness  which  showed  that  their  anxieties  had 
not  been  forgotten.  She  said  she  could  not  see 
how  any  people  could  be  both  so  selfish  and  so 
sweet,  and  her  husband  seized  the  advantage 
of  saying  something  offensive  : 

"You  women  are  so  pampered  in  America 
that  you  are  astonished  when  you  are  treated 
in  Europe  like  the  mere  human  beings  you  are." 

She  answered  with  unexpected  reasonable 
ness  :  "  Yes,  there's  something  in  that ;  but 
when  the  Germans  have  taught  us  how  despi 
cable  we  are  as  women,  why  do  they  treat  us  so 
well  as  human  beings?" 

This  was  at  ten  o'clock,  after  she  had  ridden 
backward  a  long  way,  and  at  last,  within  an  hour 
of  Leipsic,  had  got  a  seat  confronting  him.  The 
darkness  had  now  hidden  the  landscape,  but  the 
impression  of  its  few  simple  elements  lingered 
pleasantly  in  their  sense  ;  long  levels,  densely 
wooded  with  the  precise,  severely  disciplined 
German  forests,  and  checkered  with  fields  of 
205 


grain  and  grass,  soaking  under  the  thin  rain 
that  from  time  to  time  varied  the  thin  sun 
shine.  The  villages  and  peasants'  cottages 
were  notably  few  ;  but  there  was  here  and 
there  a  classic  or  a  gothic  villa,  which,  at  one 
point,  an  English-speaking  young  lady  turned 
from  her  Tauchnitz  novel  to  explain  as  the  seat 
of  some  country  gentleman  ;  the  land  was  in 
large  holdings,  and  this  accounted  for  the  spar- 
sity  of  villages  and  cottages. 

She  then  said  that  she  was  a  German  teacher 
of  English,  in  Hamburg,  and  was  going  home 
to  Potsdam  for  a  visit.  She  seemed  like  a  Ger 
man  girl  out  of  The  Initials,  and  in  return  for 
this  favor  Mrs.  March  tried  to  invest  herself 
with  some  romantic  interest  as  an  American. 
She  failed  to  move  the  girl's  fancy,  even  after 
she  had  bestowed  on  her  an  immense  bunch  of 
roses  which  the  young  German  friend  in  Ham 
burg  had  sent  to  them  just  before  they  left 
their  hotel.  She  failed,  later,  on  the  same 
ground,  with  the  pleasant-looking  English  wom 
an  who  got  into  their  carriage  at  Magdeburg, 
and  talked  over  the  London  Illustrated  News 
with  an  English-speaking  Fraulein  in  her  com 
pany  ;  she  readily  accepted  the  fact  of  Mrs. 
March's  nationality,  but  found  nothing  won 
derful  in  it,  apparently  ;  and  when  she  left  the 
train  she  left  Mrs.  March  to  recall  with  fond 
regret  the  old  days  in  Italy  when  she  first  came 
abroad,  and  could  make  a  whole  carriage  full 
206 


of  Italians  break  into  ohs  and  ahs  by  saying 
that  she  was  an  American,  and  telling  how  far 
she  had  come  across  the  sea. 

"  Yes,"  March  assented,  "  but  that  was  a  great 
while  ago,  and  Americans  were  much  rarer  than 
they  are  now  in  Europe.  The  Italians  are  so 
much  more  sympathetic  than  the  Germans  and 
English,  and  they  saw  that  you  wanted  to  im 
press  them.  Heaven  knows  how  little  they 
cared !  And  then,  you  were  a  very  pretty 
young  girl  in  those  days  ;  or  at  least  I  thought 
so." 

"  Yes,"  she  sighed,  "  and  now  I'm  a  plain  old 
woman." 

"  Oh,  not  quite  so  bad  as  that." 

"  Yes,  I  am  !  Do  you  think  they  would  have 
cared  more  if  it  had  been  Miss  Triscoe?" 

"  Not  so  much  as  if  it  had  been  the  pivotal 
girl.  They  would  have  found  her  much  more 
their  ideal  of  the  American  woman  ;  and  even 
she  would  have  had  to  have  been  here  thirty 
years  ago." 

She  laughed  a  little  ruefully.  "Well,  at  any 
rate,  I  should  like  to  know  how  Miss  Triscoe 
would  have  affected  them." 

"  I  should  much  rather  know  what  sort  of  life 
that  English  woman  is  living  here  with  her 
German  husband  ;  I  fancied  she  had  married 
rank.  I  could  imagine  how  dull  it  must  be  in 
her  little  Saxon  town  from  the  way  she  clung 
to  her  Illustrated  News,  and  explained  the  pict- 
o  209 


ures  of  the  royalties  to  her  friend.      There  is 
romance  for  you !" 

They  arrived  at  Leipsic  fresh  and  cheerful 
after  their  five  hours'  journey,  and  as  in  a  spell 
of  their  travelled  youth  they  drove  up  through 
the  academic  old  town,  asleep  under  its  dimly 
clouded  sky,  and  silent  except  for  the  trolley- 
cars  that  prowled  its  streets  with  their  feline 
purr  and  broke  at  times  into  a  long,  shrill  cat 
erwaul.  A  sense  of  the  past  imparted  itself  to 
the  well-known  encounter  with  the  porter  and 
the  head  waiter  at  the  hotel  door,  to  the  pay 
ment  of  the  driver,  to  the  endeavor  of  the  sec- ' 
retary  to  have  them  take  the  most  expensive 
rooms  in  the  house,  and  to  his  compromise 
upon  the  next  most,  where  they  found  them 
selves  in  great  comfort,  with  electric  lights  and 
bells,  and  a  quick  succession  of  fee-taking  call- 
boys  in  dress-coats  too  large  for  them.  The 
spell  was  deepened  by  the  fact,  which  March 
kept  at  the  bottom  of  his  consciousness  for  the 
present,  that  one  of  their  trunks  was  missing. 
This  linked  him  the  more  closely  to  the  travel 
of  other  days,  and  he  spent  the  next  forenoon 
in  a  telegraphic  search  for  the  estray,  with  emo 
tions  tinged  by  the  melancholy  of  recollection, 
but  in  the  security  that  since  it  was  somewhere 
in  the  keeping  of  the  state  railway,  it  would  be 
finally  restored  to  him. 


XXIII 


THEIR  windows,  as  they  found  in  the  morn 
ing,  looked  into  a  large  square  of  aris 
tocratic  physiognomy,  and  of  a  Parisian 
effect  in  architecture,  which  afterwards  proved 
characteristic  of  the  town,  if  not  quite  so  char 
acteristic  as  to  justify  the  passion  of  Leipsic  for 
calling  itself  Little  Paris.  The  prevailing  tone 
was  of  a  gray  tending  to  the  pale  yellow  of  the 
Tauchnitz  editions  with  which  the  place  is  more 
familiarly  associated  in  the  minds  of  English- 
speaking  travellers.  It  was  rather  more  sombre 
than  it  might  have  been  if  the  weather  had  been 
fair  ;  but  a  quiet  rain  was  falling  dreamily  that 
morning,  and  the  square  was  provided  with  a 
fountain  which  continued  to  dribble  in  the 
rare  moments  when  the  rain  forgot  itself. 
The  place  was  better  shaded  than  need  be  in 
that  sunless  land  by  the  German  elms  that 
look  like  ours,  and  it  was  sufficiently  stocked 
211 


with  German  statues,  that  look  like  no  others. 
It  had  a  monument,  too,  of  the  kind  with 
which  German  art  has  everywhere  disfigured 
the  kindly  fatherland  since  the  war  with 
France.  These  monuments,  though  they  are 
so  very  ugly,  have  a  sort  of  pathos  as  records 
of  the  only  war  in  which  Germany  unaided  has 
triumphed  against  a  foreign  foe,  but  they  are 
as  tiresome  as  all  such  memorial  pomps  must 
be.  It  is  not  for  the  victories  of  a  people  that 
any  other  people  can  care.  The  wars  come 
and  go  in  blood  and  tears ;  but  whether  they 
are  bad  wars,  or  what  are  comically  called  good 
wars,  they  are  of  one  effect  in  death  and  sorrow, 
and  their  fame  is  an  offence  to  all  men  not  con 
cerned  in  them,  till  time  has  softened  it  to  a 
memory 

"  Of  old,  unhappy,  far-off  things, 
And  battles  long  ago." 

It  was  for  some  such  reason  that  while  the 
Marches  turned  with  instant  satiety  from  the 
swelling  and  strutting  sculpture  which  cele 
brated  the  Leipsic  heroes  of  the  war  of  1870, 
they  had  heart  for  those  of  the  war  of  1813; 
and  after  their  noonday  dinner  they  drove 
willingly,  in  a  pause  of  the  rain,  out  between 
yellowing  harvests  of  wheat  and  oats  to  the 
field  where  Napoleon  was  beaten  by  the  Rus 
sians,  Austrians,  and  Prussians  (it  always  took 
at  least  three  nations  to  beat  the  little  wretch) 
212 


fourscore  years  before.  Yet  even  there  Mrs. 
March  was  really  more  concerned  for  the  spar- 
sity  of  corn-flowers  in  the  grain,  which  in  their 
modern  character  of  Kaiserblumen  she  found 
strangely  absent  from  their  loyal  function  ; 
and  Maroh  was  more  taken  with  the  notion  of 
the  little  gardens  which  his  guide  told  him  the 
citizens  could  have  in  the  suburbs  of  Leipsic 
and  enjoy  at  any  trolley  -  car  distance  from 
their  homes.  He  saw  certain  of  these  gardens 
in  groups,  divided  by  low,  unenvious  fences, 
and  sometimes  furnished  with  summer-houses, 
where  the  tenant  could  take  his  pleasure  in  the 
evening  air  with  his  family.  The  guide  said 
he  had  such  a  garden  himself,  at  a  rent  of  seven 
dollars  a  year,  where  he  raised  vegetables  and 
flowers,  and  spent  his  peaceful  leisure  ;  and 
March  fancied  that  on  the  simple  domestic 
side  of  their  life,  which  this  fact  gave  him  a 
glimpse  of,  the  Germans  were  much  more 
engaging  than  in  their  character  of  victors 
over  either  the  First  or  the  Third  Napoleon. 
But  probably  they  would  not  have  agreed  with 
him,  and  probably  nations  will  go  on  making 
themselves  cruel  and  tiresome  till  humanity  at 
last  prevails  over  nationality. 

He  could  have  put  the  case  to  the  guide 
himself;  but  though  the  guide  was  imaginably 
liberated  to  a  cosmopolitan  conception  of  things 
by  three  years'  service  as  waiter  in  English 
hotels,  where  he  learned  the  language,  he  might 
215 


not  have  risen  to  this.  He  would  have  tried, 
for  he  was  a  willing  and  kindly  soul,  though  he 
was  not  a  valet  de  place  by  profession.  There 
seemed,  in  fact,  but  one  of  that  useless  and 
amusing  race  (which  is  everywhere  falling  into 
decay  through  the  rivalry  of  the  perfected 
Baedekers)  left  in  Leipsic,  and  this  one  was 
engaged,  so  that  the  Marches  had  to  devolve 
upon  their  ex-waiter,  who  was  now  the  keeper 
of  a  small  restaurant.  He  gladly  abandoned 
his  business  to  the  care  of  his  wife,  in  order  to 
drive  handsomely  about  in  his  best  clothes, 
with  strangers  who  did  not  exact  too  much 
knowledge  from  him.  In  his  zeal  to  do  some 
thing  he  possessed  himself  of  March's  overcoat 
when  they  dismounted  at  their  first  gallery, 
and  let  fall  from  its  pocket  his  prophylactic 
flask  of  brandy,  which  broke  with  a  loud  crash 
on  the  marble  floor  in  the  presence  of  several 
masterpieces,  and  perfumed  the  whole  place. 
The  masterpieces  were  some  excellent  works 
of  Luke  Kranach,  who  seemed  the  only  Ger 
man  painter  worth  looking  at  when  there  were 
any  Dutch  or  Italian  pictures  near,  but  the 
travellers  forgot  the  name  and  nature  of  the 
Kranachs,  and  remembered  afterwards  only  the 
shattered  fragments  of  the  brandy-flask,  just 
how  they  looked  on  the  floor,  and  the  fumes, 
how  they  smelt,  that  rose  from  the  ruin. 

It  might  have  been  a  warning  protest  of  the 
veracities  against  what  they  were  doing  ;  but 
216 


THE   SHATTERED   FRAGMENTS   OF   THE  BRANDY-FLASK 


the  madness  of  sight-seeing,  which  spoils  travel, 
was  on  them,  and  they  delivered  themselves  up 
to  it  as  they  used  in  their  ignorant  youth, 
though  now  they  knew  its  futility  so  well.  They 
spared  themselves  nothing  that  they  had  time 
for  that  day,  and  they  felt  falsely  guilty  for 
their  omissions,  as  if  they  really  had  been  duties 
to  art  and  history  which  must  be  discharged, 
like  obligations  to  one's  maker  and  one's  neigh 
bor. 

They  had  a  touch  of  genuine  joy  in  the  pres 
ence  of  the  beautiful  old  Rathhaus,  and  they 
were  sensible  of  something  like  a  genuine 
emotion  in  passing  the  famous  and  venerable 
university  ;  the  very  air  of  Leipsic  is  redolent 
of  printing  and  publication,  which  appealed  to 
March  in  his  quality  of  editor  ;  and  they  could 
not  fail  of  an  impression  of  the  quiet  beauty 
of  the  town,  with  its  regular  streets  of  houses 
breaking  into  suburban  villas  of  an  American 
sort,  and  intersected  with  many  canals,  which 
in  the  intervals  of  the  rain  were  eagerly  nav 
igated  by  pleasure  boats,  and  contributed  to 
the  general  picturesqueness  by  their  frequent 
bridges,  even  during  the  drizzle.  There  seemed 
to  be  no  churches  to  do,  and  as  it  was  a  Sunday 
the  galleries  were  so  early  closed  against  them 
that  they  were  making  a  virtue  as  well  as  a 
pleasure  of  a  visit  to  the  famous  scene  of  Na 
poleon's  first  great  defeat. 

By  a  concert  between  their  guide  and  driver 
219 


their  carriage  drew  up  at  the  little  inn  by  the 
road-side,  which  is  also  a  museum  stocked  with 
relics  from  the  battle-field,  and  with  objects 
of  interest  relating  to  it.  Old  muskets,  old 
swords,  old  shoes  and  old  coats,  trumpets,  drums, 
gun-carriages,  wheels,  helmets,  cannon-balls, 
grape  -  shot,  and  all  the  murderous  rubbish 
which  battles  come  to  at  last,  with  proclama 
tions,  autographs,  caricatures  and  likenesses  of 
Napoleon,  and  effigies  of  all  the  other  generals 
engaged,  and  miniatures  and  jewels  of  their 
womenkind,  filled  room  after  room,  through 
which  their  owner  vaunted  his  way,  with  a  loud, 
pounding  voice  and  a  bad  breath.  When  he 
wishes  them  to  enjoy  some  gross  British  satire 
or  clumsy  German  gibe  at  Bonaparte's  expense, 
and  put  his  face  close  to  begin  the  laugh,  he 
was  something  so  terrible  that  March  left  the 
place  with  a  profound  if  not  a  reasoned  regret 
that  the  French  had  not  won  the  battle  of 
Leipsic.  He  walked  away  musing  pensively 
upon  the  traveller's  inadequacy  to  the  ethics 
of  history  when  a  breath  could  so  sway  him 
against  his  convictions  ;  but  even  after  he  had 
cleansed  his  lungs  with  some  deep  respirations 
he  found  himself  still  a  Bonapartist  in  the 
presence  of  that  stone  on  the  rising  ground 
where  Napoleon  sat  to  watch  the  struggle  on 
the  vast  plain,  and  see  his  empire  slipping 
through  his  blood-stained  fingers.  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  he  could  keep  from  revering  the 
220 


hat  and  coat  which  are  sculptured  on  the  stone, 
but  it  was  well  that  he  succeeded,  for  he  could 
not  make  out  then  or  afterwards  whether  the 
habiliments  represented  were  really  Napoleon's 
or  not,  and  they  might  have  turned  out  to  be 
Barclay  de  Tolly's. 

While  he  stood  trying  to  solve  this  question 
of  clothes  he  was  startled  by  the  apparition  of 
a  man  climbing  the  little  slope  from  the  oppo 
site  quarter,  and  advancing  towards  them.  He 
wore  the  imperial  crossed  by  the  pointed  mus 
tache  once  so  familiar  to  a  world  much  the 
worse  for  them,  and  March  had  the  shiver  of  a 
weird  moment  in  which  he  fancied  the  Third 
Napoleon  rising  to  view  the  scene  where  the 
First  had  looked  his  coming  ruin  in  the  face. 

"Why,  it's  Miss  Triscoe  !"  cried  his  wife,  and 
before  March  had  noticed  the  approach  of  an 
other  figure,  the  elder  and  the  younger  lady 
rushed  upon  each  other,  and  encountered  with 
a  kiss.  At  the  same  time  the  visage  of  the 
last  Emperor  resolved  itself  into  the  face  of 
General  Triscoe,  who  gave  March  his  hand  in 
a  more  tempered  greeting.  The  ladies  began 
asking  each  other  of  their  lives  since  their 
parting  two  days  before,  and  the  men  strolled 
a  few  paces  away  towards  the  distant  prospect 
of  Leipsic,  which  at  that  point  silhouettes  it 
self  in  a  noble  stretch  of  roofs  and  spires  and 
towers  against  the  horizon. 

General  Triscoe  seemed  no  better  satisfied 
223 


than  he  had  been  on  first  stepping  ashore  at 
Cuxhaven.  He  might  still  have  been  in  a  pout 
with  his  own  country,  but  as  yet  he  had  not 
made  up  with  any  other  ;  and  he  said,  "  What 
a  pity  Napoleon  didn't  thrash  the  whole  dun- 
derheaded  lot  !  His  empire  would  have  been 
a  blessing  to  them,  and  they  would  have  had 
some  chance  of  being  civilized  under  the 
French.  All  this  unification  of  nationalities 
is  the  great  humbug  of  the  century.  Every 
stupid  race  thinks  it's  happy  because  it's 
united,  and  civilization  has  been  set  back  a 
hundred  years  by  the  wars  that  were  fought 
to  bring  the  unions  about,  and  more  wars  will 
have  to  be  fought  to  keep  them  up.  What  a 
farce  it  is  !  What's  become  of  the  nationality 
of  the  Danes  in  Schleswig- Holstein,  or  the 
French  in  the  Rhine  Provinces,  or  the  Italians 
in  Savoy  ?" 

March  had  thought  something  like  this  him 
self,  but  to  have  it  put  by  General  Triscoe 
made  it  offensive.  "  I  don't  know.  Isn't  it 
rather  quarrelling  with  the  course  of  human 
events  to  oppose  accomplished  facts?  The 
unifications  were  bound  to  be,  just  as  the  sep 
arations  before  them  were.  And  so  far  they 
have  made  for  peace,  in  Europe  at  least,  and 
peace  is  civilization.  Perhaps  after  a  great 
many  ages  people  will  come  together  through 
their  real  interests,  the  human  interests  ;  but 
at  present  it  seems  as  if  nothing  but  romantic 
224 


sentiment  can  unite  them.  By-and-by  they 
may  find  that  there  is  nothing  in  it  ;  but  they 
will  have  to  learn  by  experience." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  general,  discontentedly. 
"  I  don't  see  much  promise  of  any  kind  in  the 
future." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  When  you  think  of 
the  solid  militarism  of  Germany,  you  seem  re 
manded  to  the  most  hopeless  moment  of  the 
Roman  Empire  ;  you  think  nothing  can  break 
such  a  force  ;  but  my  guide  says  that  even  in 
Leipsic  the  Socialists  outnumber  all  the  other 
parties,  and  the  army  is  the  great  field  of  the 
Socialist  propaganda.  The  army  itself  may  be 
shaped  into  the  means  of  democracy — even  of 
peace." 

"  You're  very  optimistic,"  said  Triscoe,  curt 
ly.  "As  I  read  the  signs,  we  are  not  far  from  uni 
versal  war.  In  less  than  a  year  we  shall  make 
the  break  ourselves  in  a  war  with  Spain."  He 
looked  very  fierce  as  he  prophesied,  and  he 
dotted  March  over  with  his  staccato  glances. 

"  Well,  I'll  allow  that  if  Tammany  comes  in 
this  year,  we  shall  have  war  with  Spain.  You 
can't  ask  more  than  that,  General  Triscoe?" 

Mrs.  March  and  Miss  Triscoe  had  not  said  a 
word  of  the  battle  of  Leipsic,  or  of  the  imper 
sonal  interests  which  it  suggested  to  the  men. 
For  all  these,  they  might  still  have  been  sitting 
in  their  steamer  chairs  on  the  promenade  of 
the  Nornmbia  at  a  period  which  seemed  now  of 
p  225 


geological  remoteness.  The  girl  accounted  for 
not  being  in  Dresden  by  her  father's  hav 
ing  decided  not  to  go  through  Berlin  but  to 
come  by  way  of  Leipsic,  which  he  thought 
they  had  better  see  ;  they  had  come  without 
stopping  in  Hamburg.  They  had  not  enjoyed 
Leipsic  much  ;  it  had  rained  the  whole  day  be 
fore,  and  they  had  not  gone  out.  She  asked 
when  Mrs.  March  was  going  on  to  Carlsbad,  and 
Mrs.  March  answered,  the  next  morning  ;  her 
husband  wished  to  begin  his  cure  at  once. 

Then  Miss  Triscoe  pensively  wondered  if 
Carlsbad  would  do  her  father  any  good  ;  and 
Mrs.  March  discreetly  inquired  General  Tris- 
coe's  symptoms. 

"  Oh,  he  hasn't  any.  But  I  know  he  can't  be 
well — with  his  gloomy  opinions." 

"They  may  come  from  his  liver,"  said  Mrs. 
March.  "  Nearly  everything  of  that  kind  does. 
I  know  that  Mr.  March  has  been  terribly  de 
pressed  at  times,  and  the  doctor  said  it  was 
nothing  but  his  liver ;  and  Carlsbad  is  the 
great  place  for  tliat,  you  know." 

"  Perhaps  I  can  get  papa  to  run  over  some 
day,  if  he  doesn't  like  Dresden.  It  isn't  very 
far,  is  it?" 

They  referred  to  Mrs.  March's  Baedeker  to 
gether,  and  found  that  it  was  five  hours. 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I  thought,"  said  Miss  Tris 
coe,  with  a  carelessness  which  convinced  Mrs. 
March  she  had  looked  up  the  fact  already. 
226 


"  If  you  decide  to  come,  you  must  let  us  get 
rooms  for  you  at  our  hotel.  We're  going  to 
Pupp's  ;  most  of  the  English  and  Americans 
go  to  the  hotels  on  the  Hill,  but  Pupp's  is  in 
the  thick  of  it  in  the  lower  town  ;  and  it's  very 
gay,  Mr.  Kenby  says ;  he's  been  there  often. 
Mr.  Burnamy  is  to  get  our  rooms." 

"I  don't  suppose  I  can  get  papa  to  go,"  said 
Miss  Triscoe,  so  insincerely  that  Mrs.  March 
was  sure  she  had  talked  over  the  different 
routes  to  Carlsbad  with  Burnamy  —  probably 
on  the  way  from  Cuxhaven.  She  looked  up 
from  digging  the  point  of  her  umbrella  in  the 
ground.  "  You  didn't  meet  him  here  this  morn 
ing?" 

Mrs.  March  governed  herself  to  a  calm  which 
she  respected  in  asking,  "  Has  Mr.  Burnamy 
been  here?" 

"  He  came  on  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eltwin, 
when  we  did,  and  they  all  decided  to  stop  over 
a  day.  They  left  on  the  twelve -o'clock  train 
to-day." 

Mrs.  March  perceived  that  the  girl  had  de 
cided  not  to  let  the  facts  betray  themselves  by 
chance,  and  she  treated  them  as  of  no  signifi 
cance. 

"  No,  we  didn't  see  him,"  she  said,  carelessly. 

The  two  men  came  walking  slowly  towards 
them,  and  Miss  Triscoe  said,  "We're  going  to 
Dresden  this  evening,  but  I  hope  we  shall  meet 
somewhere,  Mrs.  March." 
227 


u  Oh,  people  never  lose  sight  of  each  other 
in  Europe  ;  they  can't ;  it's  so  little  !" 

"  Agatha,"  said  the  girl's  father,  "Mr.  March 
tells  me  that  the  museum  over  there  is  worth 
seeing." 

"  Well,"  the  girl  assented,  and  she  took  a  win 
ning  leave  of  the  Marches,  and  moved  grace 
fully  away  with  her  father. 

"I  should  have  thought  it  was  Agnes,"  said 
Mrs.  March,  following  them  with  her  eyes  be 
fore  she  turned  upon  her  husband.  "  Did  he 
tell  you  Burnamy  had  been  here  ?  Well,  he 
has  !  He  has  just  gone  on  to  Carlsbad.  He 
made  those  poor  old  Eltwins  stop  over  with 
him,  so  he  could  be  with  her" 

"  Did  she  say  that  ?" 

"  No,  but  of  course  he  did." 

"  Then  it's  all  settled  ?" 

"  No,  it  isn't  settled.  It's  at  the  most  inter 
esting  point." 

"  Well,  don't  read  ahead.  You  always  want 
to  look  at  the  last  page." 

"You  were  trying  to  look  at  the  last  page 
yourself."  she  retorted,  and  she  would  have 
liked  to  punish  him  for  his  complex  dishonesty 
towards  the  affair ;  but  upon  the  whole  she  kept 
her  temper  with  him,  and  she  made  him  agree 
that  Miss  Triscoe's  getting  her  father  to  Carls 
bad  was  only  a  question  of  time. 

They  parted  heart's -friends  with  their  in 
effectual  guide,  who  was  affectionately  grateful 
228 


for  the  few  marks  they  gave  him,  at  the  hotel 
door  ;  and  they  were  in  just  the  mood  to  hear 
men  singing  in  a  farther  room  when  they  went 
down  to  supper.  The  waiter,  much  distracted 
from  their  own  service  by  his  duties  to  it,  told 
them  it  was  the  breakfast -party  of  students 
which  they  had  heard  beginning  there  about 
noon.  The  revellers  had  now  been  some  six 
hours  at  table,  and  he  said  they  might  not  rise 
before  midnight  ;  they  had  just  got  to  the 
toasts,  which  were  apparently  set  to  music. 

The  students  of  right  remained  a  vivid  color 
in  the  impression  of  the  university  town.  They 
pervaded  the  place,  and  decorated  it  with  their 
fantastic  personal  taste  in  coats  and  trousers, 
as  well  as  their  corps  caps  of  green,  white,  red, 
and  blue,  but  above  all  blue.  They  were  not 
easily  distinguishable  from  the  bicyclers  who 
were  holding  one  of  the  dull  festivals  of  their 
kind  in  Leipsic  that  day,  and  perhaps  they  were 
sometimes  both  students  and  bicyclers.  As 
bicyclers  they  kept  about  in  the  rain,  which 
they  seemed  not  to  mind  ;  so  far  from  being 
disheartened,  they  had  spirits  enough  to  take 
one  another  by  the  waist  at  times  and  waltz  in 
the  square  before  the  hotel.  At  one  moment 
of  the  holiday  some  chiefs  among  them  drove 
away  in  carriages  ;  at  supper  a  winner  of  prizes 
sat  covered  with  badges  and  medals  ;  another 
who  went  by  the  hotel  streamed  with  ribbons  : 
and  an  elderly  man  at  his  side  was  bespattered 
231 


with  small  knots  and  ends  of  them,  as  if  he  had 
been  in  an  explosion  of  ribbons  somewhere.  It 
seemed  all  to  be  as  exciting  for  them,  and  it 
was  as  tedious  for  the  witnesses,  as  any  gala 
of  students  and  bicyclers  at  home. 

Mrs.  March  remained  with  an  unrequited 
curiosity  concerning  their  different  colors  and 
different  caps,  and  she  tried  to  make  her  hus 
band  find  out  what  they  severally  meant  ;  he 
pretended  a  superior  interest  in  the  nature  of  a 
people  who  had  such  a  passion  for  uniforms 
that  they  were  not  content  with  its  gratifica 
tion  in  their  immense  army,  but  indulged  it  in 
every  pleasure  and  employment  of  civil  life. 
He  estimated,  perhaps  not  very  accurately, 
that  only  one  man  out  of  ten  in  Germany 
wore  citizens'  dress  ;  and  of  all  functionaries 
he  found  that  the  dogs  of  the  woman-and-dog 
teams  alone  had  no  distinctive  dress  ;  even  the 
women  had  their  peasant  costume. 

There  was  an  industrial  fair  open  at  Leipsic 
which  they  went  out  of  the  city  to  see  after 
supper,  along  with  a  throng  of  Leipsickers, 
whom  an  hour's  interval  of  fine  weather 
tempted  forth  on  the  trolley  ;  and  with  the 
help  of  a  little  corporal,  who  took  a  fee  for  his 
service  with  the  eagerness  of  a  civilian,  they 
got  wheeled  chairs,  and  renewed  their  associa 
tions  with  the  great  Chicago  Fair  in  seeing  the 
exposition  from  them.  This  was  not,  March 
said,  quite  the  same  as  being  drawn  by  a  wom- 
232 


an-and-dog  team,  which  would  have  been  the 
right  means  of  doing  a  German  fair  ;  but  it 
was  something  to  have  his  chair  pushed  by  a 
slender  young  girl,  whose  stalwart  brother  ap 
plied  his  strength  to  the  chair  of  the  lighter 
traveller  ;  and  it  was  fit  that  the  girl  should 
reckon  the  common  hire,  while  the  man  took 
the  common  tip.  They  made  haste  to  leave 
the  useful  aspects  of  the  fair,  and  had  them 
selves  trundled  away  to  the  Colonial  Exhibit, 
where  they  vaguely  expected  something  like 
the  agreeable  corruptions  of  the  Midway  Plai- 
sance.  The  idea  of  her  colonial  progress  with 
which  Germany  is  trying  to  affect  the  home- 
keeping  imagination  of  her  people  was  illus 
trated  by  an  encampment  of  savages  from  her 
Central-African  possessions.  They  were  get 
ting  their  supper  at  the  moment  the  Marches 
saw  them,  and  were  crouching  half  naked 
around  the  fires  under  the  kettles,  and  shiver 
ing  from  the  cold,  but  they  were  not  very 
characteristic  of  the  imperial  expansion,  unless 
perhaps  when  an  old  man  in  a  red  blanket  sud 
denly  sprang  up  with  a  knife  in  his  hand,  and 
began  to  chase  a  boy  round  the  camp.  The 
boy  was  lighter-footed,  and  easily  outran  the 
sage,  who  tripped  at  times  on  his  blanket. 
None  of  the  other  Central-Africans  seemed  to 
care  for  the  race,  and  without  waiting  for  the 
event,  the  American  spectators  ordered  them 
selves  trundled  away  to  another  idle  feature  of 
233 


the  fair,  where  they  hoped  to  amuse  them 
selves  with  the  image  of  Old  Leipsic. 

This  was  so  faithfully  studied  from  the  past 
in  its  narrow  streets  and  Gothic  houses  that  it 
was  almost  as  picturesque  as  the  present  epoch 
in  the  old  streets  of  Hamburg.  A  drama  had 
just  begun  to  be  represented  on  a  platform  of 
the  public  square  in  front  of  a  fourteenth-cen 
tury  beer-house,  with  people  talking  from  the 
windows  round,  and  revellers  in  the  costume 
of  the  period  drinking  beer  and  eating  sau 
sages  at  tables  in  the  open  air.  Their  eating 
and  drinking  were  real,  and  in  the  midst 
of  it  a  real  rain  began  to  pour  down  upon 
them,  without  affecting  them  any  more  than  if 
they  had  been  Germans  of  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury.  But  it  drove  the  Americans  to  a  shelter 
from  which  they  could  not  see  the  play,  and 
when  it  stopped  they  made  their  way  back  to 
their  hotel. 

Their  car  was  full  of  returning  pleasurers, 
some  of  whom  were  happy  beyond  the  sober 
wont  of  the  fatherland.  The  conductor  took 
a  special  interest  in  his  tipsy  passengers,  try 
ing  to  keep  them  in  order,  and  genially  en 
treating  them  to  be  quiet  when  they  were  too 
obstreperous.  From  time  to  time  he  got  some 
of  them  off,  and  then,  when  he  remounted  the 
car,  he  appealed  to  the  remaining  passengers 
for  their  sympathy  with  an  innocent  smile, 
which  the  Americans,  still  strange  to  the  un- 


joyous  physiognomy  of  the  German  Empire, 
failed  to  value  at  its  rare  worth. 

Before  he  slept  that  night  March  tried  to 
assemble  from  the  experiences  and  impressions 
of  the  day  some  facts  which  he  would  not  be 
ashamed  of  as  a  serious  observer  of  life  in 
Leipsic,  and  he  remembered  that  their  guide 
had  said  house-rent  was  very  low.  He  gener 
alized  from  the  guide's  content  with  his  fee 
that  the  Germans  were  not  very  rapacious  ; 
and  he  became  quite  irrelevantly  aware  that 
in  Germany  no  man's  clothes  fitted  him,  or 
seemed  expected  to  fit  him  ;  that  the  women 
dressed  somewhat  better,  and  were  rather 
pretty  sometimes,  and  that  they  had  feet  as 
large  as  the  kind  hearts  of  the  Germans  of 
every  age  and  sex.  He  was  able  to  note,  rather 
more  freshly,  that  with  all  their  kindness  the 
Germans  were  a  very  nervous  people,  if  not  irri 
table,  and  at  the  least  cause  gave  way  to  an 
agitation,  which  indeed  quickly  passed,  but  was 
violent  while  it  lasted.  Several  times  that  day 
he  had  seen  encounters  between  the  portier 
and  guests  at  the  hotel  which  promised  vio 
lence,  but  which  ended  peacefully  as  soon  as 
some  simple  question  of  train-time  was  solved. 
The  encounters  always  left  the  portier  purple 
and  perspiring,  as  any  agitation  must  with  a 
man  so  tight  in  his  livery.  He  bemoaned  him 
self  after  one  of  them  as  the  victim  of  an  un 
happy  calling,  in  which  he  could  take  no  ex- 
235 


ercise.  "  It  is  a  life  of  excitements,  but  not 
of  movements,"  he  explained  to  March  ;  and 
when  he  learned  where  he  was  going,  he  re 
gretted  that  he  could  not  go  to  Carlsbad  too. 
"  For  sugar  ?"  he  asked,  as  if  there  were  over 
much  of  it  in  his  own  make. 

March  felt  the  tribute,  but  he  had  to  say, 
"No;  liver." 

"Ah  !"  said  the  portier,  with  the  air  of  fail 
ing  to  get  on  common  ground  with  him. 


XXIV 


THE  next  morning  was  so  fine  that  it 
would  have  been  a  fine  morning  in 
America.  Its  beauty  was  scarcely  sul 
lied  even  subjectively  by  the  telegram  which 
the  portier  sent  after  the  Marches  from  the 
hotel  saying  that  their  missing  trunk  had  not 
yet  been  found,  and  their  spirits  were  as  light 
as  the  gay  little  clouds  which  blew  about  in  the 
sky,  when  their  train  drew  out  in  the  sunshine 
brilliant  on  the  charming  landscape  all  the  way 
to  Carlsbad.  A  fatherly  traeger  had  done  his 
best  to  get  them  the  worst  places  in  a  non 
smoking  compartment,  but  had  succeeded  so 
poorly  that  they  were  very  comfortable,  with 
no  companions  but  a  mother  and  daughter, 
who  spoke  German  in  soft  low  tones  together. 
Their  compartment  was  pervaded  by  tobacco 
fumes  from  the  smokers,  but  as  these  were 
twice  as  many  as  the  non-smokers,  it  was  only 
237 


fair,  and  after  March  had  got  a  window  open, 
it  did  not  matter,  really. 

He  asked  leave  of  the  strangers  in  his  Ger 
man,  and  they  consented  in  theirs  ;  but  he 
could  not  master  the  secret  of  the  window- 
catch,  and  the  elder  lady  said  in  English,  "  Let 
me  show  you,"  and  came  to  his  help.  The  oc 
casion  for  explaining  that  they  were  Americans 
and  accustomed  to  different  car  windows  was 
so  tempting  that  Mrs.  March  could  not  forbear, 
and  the  other  ladies  were  affected  as  deeply  as 
she  could  wish.  Perhaps  they  were  the  more 
affected  because  it  presently  appeared  that  they 
had  cousins  in  New  York  whom  she  knew  of, 
and  that  they  were  acquainted  with  an  Amer 
ican  family  that  had  passed  a  winter  in  Berlin. 
Life  likes  to  do  these  things  handsomely,  and 
it  easily  turned  out  that  this  was  a  family  of 
intimate  friendship  with  the  Marches ;  the 
names  familiarly  spoken  abolished  all  strange 
ness  between  the  travellers  ;  and  they  entered 
into  a  comparison  of  tastes,  opinions,  and  ex 
periences,  from  which  it  seemed  that  the  ob 
jects  and  interests  of  cultivated  people  in  Berlin 
were  quite  the  same  as  those  of  cultivated  peo 
ple  in  New  York.  Each  of  the  parties  to  the 
discovery  disclaimed  any  superiority  for  their 
respective  civilizations  ;  they  wished  rather  to 
ascribe  a  greater  charm  and  virtue  to  the  alien 
conditions ;  and  they  acquired  such  merit  with 
one  another  that  when  the  German  ladies  got 
238 


out  of  the  train  at  Franzensbad,  the  mother 
offered  Mrs.  March  an  ingenious  folding  foot 
stool  which  she  had  admired.  In  fact  she  left 
her  with  it  clasped  to  her  breast,  and  bowing 
speechless  towards  the  giver  in  a  vain  wish  to 
express  her  gratitude. 

"  That  was  very  pretty  of  her,  my  dear,"  said 
March.  "  You  couldn't  have  done  that." 

"  No,"  she  confessed  ;  "  I  shouldn't  have  had 
the  courage.  The  courage  of  my  emotions," 
she  added,  thoughtfully. 

"  Ah,  that's  the  difference  !  A  Berliner  could 
do  it,  and  a  Bostonian  couldn't.  Do  you  think 
it's  so  much  better  to  have  the  courage  of  your 
convictions  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  It  seems  to  me  that  I'm  less 
and  less  certain  of  everything  that  I  used  to  be 
sure  of." 

He  laughed,  and  then  he  said,  "I  was  think 
ing  how,  on  our  wedding  journey,  long  ago, 
that  Gray  Sister  at  the  Hotel  Dieu  in  Quebec 
offered  you  a  rose." 

"  Well  ?" 

"  That  was  to  your  pretty  youth.  Now  the 
gracious  stranger  gives  you  a  folding  stool." 

"  To  rest  my  poor  old  feet.  Well,  I  would 
rather  have  it  than  a  rose,  now." 

"You  bent  towards  her  at  just  the  slant  you 

had  when  you  took  the  flower  that  time  ;    I 

noticed  it.     I  didn't  see  that  you  looked  so  very 

different.     To  be  sure  the  roses  in  your  cheeks 

Q  241 


have  turned  into  rosettes  ;  but  rosettes  are 
very  nice,  and  they're  much  more  permanent ; 
I  prefer  them ;  they  will  keep  in  any  cli 
mate." 

She  suffered  his  mockery  with  an  appre 
ciative  sigh.  "  Yes,  our  age  caricatures  our 
youth,  doesn't  it  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  it  gets  much  fun  out  of  it," 
he  assented. 

"  No  ;  but  it  can't  help  it.  I  used  to  rebel 
against  it  when  it  first  began.  I  did  enjoy  be 
ing  young." 

"  You  did,  my  dear,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand 
tenderly ;  she  withdrew  it,  because  though  she 
could  bear  his  sympathy,  her  New  England 
nature  could  not  bear  its  expression.  "And 
so  did  I ;  and  we  were  both  young  a  long  time. 
Travelling  brings  the  past  back,  don't  you 
think?  There  at  that  restaurant,  where  we 
stopped  for  dinner — 

"  Yes,  it  was  charming  !  Just  as  it  used  to 
be  !  With  that  white  cloth,  and  those  tall  shin 
ing  bottles  of  wine,  and  the  fruit  in  the  centre, 
and  the  dinner  in  courses,  and  that  young 
waiter  who  spoke  English  and  was  so  nice  ! 
I'm  never  going  home ;  you  may,  if  you 
like." 

"  You  bragged  to  those  ladies  about  our 
dining-cars  ;  and  you  said  that  our  railroad 
restaurants  were  quite  as  good  as  the  Euro 
pean." 

242 


"  I  had  to  do  that.  But  I  knew  better  ;  they 
don't  begin  to  be." 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  I've  been  thinking  that 
travel  is  a  good  deal  alike  everywhere.  It's 
the  expression  of  the  common  civilization  of 
the  world.  When  I  came  out  of  that  restaurant 
and  ran  the  train  down,  and  then  found  that  it 
didn't  start  for  fifteen  minutes,  I  wasn't  sure 
whether  I  was  at  home  or  abroad.  And  when 
we  changed  cars  at  Eger,  and  got  into  this 
train  which  had  been  baking  in  the  sun  for  us 
outside  the  station,  I  didn't  know  but  I  was 
back  in  the  good  old  Fitchburg  depot.  To  be 
sure,  Wallenstein  wasn't  assassinated  at  Bos 
ton,  but  I  forgot  his  murder  at  Eger,  and  so 
that  came  to  the  same  thing.  It's  these  con 
founded  fifty  odd  years.  I  used  to  recollect 
everything." 

He  had  got  up  and  was  looking  out  of  the 
window  at  the  landscape,  which  had  not  grown 
less  amiable  in  growing  rather  more  slovenly 
since  they  had  crossed  the  Saxon  border  into 
Bohemia.  All  the  morning  and  early  after 
noon  they  had  run  through  lovely  levels  of 
harvest,  where  men  were  cradling  the  wheat 
and  women  were  binding  it  into  sheaves  in  the 
narrow  fields  between  black  spaces  of  forest. 
After  they  left  Eger,  there  was  something 
more  picturesque  and  less  thrifty  in  the  farm 
ing  among  the  low  hills  which  they  gradually 
mounted  to  uplands  where  they  tasted  a  moun- 
243 


tain  quality  in  the  thin  pure  air.  The  railroad 
stations  were  shabbier  ;  there  was  an  inde 
finable  touch  of  something  Southern  in  the 
scenery  and  the  people.  Lilies  were  rocking 
on  the  sluggish  reaches  of  the  streams,  and 
where  the  current  quickened,  tall  wheels  were 
lifting  water  for  the  fields  in  circles  of  brim 
ming  and  spilling  pockets.  Along  the  em 
bankments  where  a  new  track  was  being  laid, 
barefooted  women  were  at  work  with  pick  and 
spade  and  barrow,  and  little  yellow-haired  girls 
were  lugging  large  white-headed  babies,  and 
watching  the  train  go  by.  At  an  up  grade 
where  it  slowed  in  the  ascent  he  began  to  throw 
out  to  the  children  the  pfennigs  which  had 
been  left  over  from  the  passage  in  Germany, 
and  he  pleased  himself  with  his  bounty,  till  the 
question  whether  the  children  could  spend  the 
money  forced  itself  upon  him.  He  sat  down 
feeling  less  like  a  good  genius  than  a  cruel 
magician  who  had  tricked  them  with  false 
wealth  ;  but  he  kept  his  remorse  to  himself, 
and  tried  to  interest  his  wife  in  the  difference 
of  social  and  civic  ideal  expressed  in  the  change 
of  the  inhibitory  placards  at  the  car  windows, 
which  in  Germany  had  strongliest  forbidden 
him  to  outlean  himself,  and  now  in  Austria  en 
treated  him  not  to  outbow  himself.  She  re 
fused  to  take  part  in  the  speculation,  or  to 
debate  the  yet  nicer  problem  involved  by  the 
placarded  prayer  in  the  wash  -  room  to  the 
244 


Messrs.  Travellers  not  to  take  away  the  soap  ; 
and  suddenly  he  felt  himself  as  tired  as  she 
looked,  with  that  sense  of  the  futility  of  travel 
which  lies  in  wait  for  every  one  who  profits  by 
travel. 


XXV 

THEY  found  Burnamy  expecting  them  at 
the  station  in  Carlsbad,  and  she  scolded 
him  like  a  mother  for  taking  the  trouble 
to  meet  them,  while  she  kept  back  for  the  pres 
ent  any  sign  of  knowing  that  he  had  stayed 
over  a  day  with  the  Triscoes  in  Leipsic.  He 
was  as  affectionately  glad  to  see  her  and  her  hus 
band  as  she  could  have  wished,  but  she  would 
have  liked  it  better  if  he  had  owned  up  at  once 
about  Leipsic.  He  did  not,  and  it  seemed  to 
her  that  he  was  holding  her  at  arm's-length  in 
his  answers  about  his  employer.  He  would  not 
say  how  he  liked  his  work,  or  how  he  liked  Mr. 
Stoller ;  he  merely  said  that  they  were  at 
Pupp's  together,  and  that  he  had  got  in  a  good 
day's  work  already  ;  and  since  he  would  say  no 
more,  she  contented  herself  with  that. 

The  long  drive  from  the  station  to  the  hotel 
was  by  streets  that  wound  down  the  hill-side 
246 


like  those  of  an  Italian  mountain  town,  between 
gay  stuccoed  houses,  of  Southern  rather  than 
of  Northern  architecture ;  and  the  impression 
of  a  Latin  country  was  heightened  at  a  turn  of 
the  road  which  brought  into  view  a  colossal 
crucifix,  planted  against  a  curtain  of  dark  green 
foliage,  on  the  brow  of  one  of  the  wooded  heights 
that  surround  Carlsbad.  When  they  reached 
the  level  of  the  Tepl,  the  hill-fed  torrent  that 
brawls  through  the  little  city  under  pretty 
bridges  within  walls  of  solid  masonry,  they 
found  themselves  in  almost  the  only  vehicle 
on  a  brilliant  promenade  thronged  with  a  cos 
mopolitan  world.  Germans  in  every  manner 
of  misfit ;  Polish  Jews  in  long  black  gabardines, 
with  tight  corkscrew  curls  on  their  temples 
under  their  black  velvet  derbys ;  Austrian 
officers  in  tight  corsets  ;  Greek  priests  in  flow 
ing  robes  and  brimless  high  hats  ;  Russians  in 
caftans  and  Cossacks  in  Astrakhan  caps,  ac 
cented  the  more  homogeneous  masses  of  west 
ern  Europeans,  in  which  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  say  which  were  English,  French,  or 
Italians.  Among  the  vividly  dressed  ladies, 
some  were  imaginably  Parisian  from  their  chic 
costumes,  but  they  might  easily  have  been 
Hungarians  or  Levantines  of  taste  ;  some 
Americans  who  might  have  passed  unknown 
in  the  perfection  of  their  dress  gave  their 
nationality  away  in  the  flat  wooden  tones  of 
their  voices,  which  made  themselves  heard 
247 


above  the  low  hum  of  talk  and  the  whisper 
of  the  innumerable  feet. 

The  omnibus  worked  its  way  at  a  slow  walk 
among  the  promenaders  going  and  coming  be 
tween  the  rows  of  pollard  locusts  on  one  side 
and  the  bright  walls  of  the  houses  on  the  other. 
Under  the  trees  were  tables,  served  by  pretty, 
bareheaded  girls  who  ran  to  and  from  the  res 
taurants  across  the  way.  On  both  sides  flashed 
and  glittered  the  little  shops  full  of  silver,  glass, 
jewelry,  terra -cotta  figurines,  wood-carvings, 
and  all  the  idle  frippery  of  watering-place  traf 
fic.  They  suggested  Paris,  and  they  suggested 
Saratoga,  and  then  they  were  of  Carlsbad  and 
of  no  place  else  in  the  world,  as  the  crowd  which 
might  have  been  that  of  other  cities  at  certain 
moments  could  only  have  been  of  Carlsbad  in 
its  habitual  effect. 

"  Do  you  like  it  ?"  asked  Burnamy  as  if  he 
owned  the  place,  and  Mrs.  March  saw  how 
simple-hearted  he  was  in  his  reticence,  after 
all.  She  was  ready  to  bless  him  when  they 
reached  the  hotel  and  found  that  his  interest 
had  got  them  the  only  rooms  left  in  the  house. 
This  satisfied  in  her  the  passion  for  size  which 
is  at  the  bottom  of  every  American  heart,  and 
which  perhaps  above  all  else  marks  us  the 
youngest  of  the  peoples.  We  pride  ourselves 
on  the  bigness  of  our  own  things,  but  we  are 
not  ungenerous,  and  when  we  go  to  Europe 
and  find  things  bigger  than  ours,  we  are  mag- 
248 


nanimously  happy  in  them.  Pupp's,  in  its  al 
together  different  way,  was  larger  than  any 
hotel  at  Saratoga  or  at  Niagara  ;  and  when 
Burnamy  told  her  that  it  sometimes  fed  fifteen 
thousand  people  a  day  in  the  height  of  the  sea 
son,  she  was  personally  proud  of  it. 

She  waited  with  him  in  the  rotunda  of  the 
hotel  while  the  secretary  led  March  off  to  look 
at  the  rooms  reserved  for  them,  and  Burnamy 
hospitably  turned  the  revolving  octagonal  case 
in  the  centre  of  the  rotunda  where  the  names 
of  the  guests  were  put  up.  They  were  of  all 
nations,  but  there  were  so  many  New-Yorkers 
whose  names  ended  in  berg,  and  tlial,  and  stern, 
and  baum  that  she  seemed  to  be  gazing  upon  a 
cyclorama  of  the  signs  on  Broadway.  A  large 
man  of  unmistakable  American  make,  but  with 
so  little  that  was  of  New  England  or  New  York 
in  his  presence  that  she  might  not  at  once  have 
thought  him  American,  lounged  towards  them 
with  a  quill  toothpick  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth. 
He  had  a  jealous  blue  eye,  into  which  he  seemed 
trying  to  put  a  friendly  light ;  his  straight 
mouth  stretched  in  a  voluntary  smile  above  his 
tawny  chin-beard,  and  he  wore  his  soft  hat  so 
far  back  from  his  high  forehead  (it  showed  to 
the  crown  when  he  took  his  hat  off)  that  he  had 
the  effect  of  being  uncovered. 

At  his  approach  Burnamy  turned,  and  with 
a  flush  said  :  "  Oh  !  Let  me  introduce  Mr.  Stol- 
ler,  Mrs.  March." 

249 


Stoller  took  his  toothpick  out  of  his  mouth 
and  bowed  ;  then  he  seemed  to  remember,  and 
took  off  his  hat.  "  You  see  Jews  enough  here 
to  make  you  feel  at  home  ?"  he  asked  ;  and  he 
added  :  "  Well,  we  got  some  of  'em  in  Chicago, 
too,  I  guess.  This  young  man " — he  twisted 
his  head  towards  Burnamy — "found  you  easy 
enough  ?" 

"  It  was  very  good  of  him  to  meet  us,"  Mrs. 
March  began.  "  We  didn't  expect — 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Stoller,  putting 
his  toothpick  back,  and  his  hat  on.  "We'd  got 
through  for  the  day  ;  my  doctor  won't  let  me 
work  all  I  want  to,  here.  Your  husband's  go 
ing  to  take  the  cure,  they  tell  me.  Well,  he 
wants  to  go  to  a  good  doctor,  first.  You  can't 
go  and  drink  these  waters  hit  or  miss.  I  found 
that  out  before  I  came  here." 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Mrs.  March,  and  she  wished 
to  explain  how  they  had  been  advised  ;  but  he 
said  to  Burnamy  : 

"  I  sha'n't  want  you  again  till  ten  to-morrow 
morning.  Don't  let  me  interrupt  you,"  he 
added  patronizingly  to  Mrs.  March.  He  put 
his  hand  up  towards  his  hat,  and  sauntered 
away  out  of  the  door. 

Burnamy  did  not  speak  ;  and  she  only  asked 
at  last,  to  relieve  the  silence,  "  Is  Mr.  Stoller  an 
American  ?" 

"Why,  I  suppose  so,"  he  answered,  with  an 
uneasy  laugh.  "  His  people  were  German  eini- 
250 


'YOU  CAN'T  GO  AND  DRINK  THESE  WATERS  HIT  OR  MISS' 


grants  who  settled  in  southern  Indiana.  That 
makes  him  as  much  American  as  any  of  us, 
doesn't  it  ?" 

Burnamy  spoke  with  his  mind  on  his  French- 
Canadian  grandfather,  who  had  come  down 
through  Detroit,  when  their  name  was  Bon- 
ami  ;  but  Mrs.  March  answered  from  her 
eight  generations  of  New  England  ancestry, 
"  Oh,  for  the  West,  yes,  perhaps,"  and  they 
neither  of  them  said  anything  more  about 
Stoller. 

In  their  room,  where  she  found  March  wait 
ing  for  her  amidst  their  arriving  baggage,  she 
was  so  full  of  her  pent-up  opinions  of  Bur- 
namy's  patron  that  she  would  scarcely  speak 
of  the  view  from  their  windows  of  the  wooded 
hills  up  and  down  the  Tepl.  "Yes,  yes  ;  very 
nice,  and  I  know  I  shall  enjoy  it  ever  so  much. 
But  I  don't  know  what  you  will  think  of  that 
poor  young  Burnamy  !" 

"  Why,  what's  happened  to  him  ?" 
"  Happened  ?     Stoller 's  happened." 
"  Oh,  have  you  seen  him  already  ?     Well  ?" 
"  Well,  if  you  had  been   going  to  pick  out 
that  type  of   man,  you'd  have  rejected  him, 
because  you'd  have  said  he  was  too  pat.     He's 
like  an  actor  made  up  for  a  Western  million 
aire.      Do   you   remember   that  American    in 
L ' Etrangere  which  Bernhardt  did  in  Boston 
when  she  first  came?     He  looks  exactly  like 
that,  and  he  has  the  worst  manners.    He  stood 
253 


talking  to  me  with  his  hat  on  and  a  toothpick 
in  his  mouth  ;  and  he  made  me  feel  as  if  he 
had  bought  me,  along  with  Burnamy,  and  had 
paid  too  much.  If  you  don't  give  him  a  set 
ting  down,  Basil,  I  shall  never  speak  to  you  ; 
that's  all.  I'm  sure  Burnamy  is  in  some 
trouble  with  him  ;  he's  got  some  sort  of  hold 
upon  him  ;  what  it  could  be  in  such  a  short 
time,  /  can't  imagine ;  but  if  ever  a  man 
seemed  to  be  in  a  man's  power,  he  does,  in 
his  r 

"  Now,"  said  March,  "  your  pronouns  have 
got  so  far  beyond  me  that  I  think  we'd  better 
let  it  all  go  till  after  supper ;  perhaps  I  shall 
see  Stoller  myself  by  that  time." 

She  had  been  deeply  stirred  by  her  encoun 
ter  with  Stoller,  but  she  entered  with  impartial 
intensity  into  the  fact  that  the  elevator  at 
Pupp's  had  the  characteristic  of  always  com 
ing  up  and  never  going  down  with  passengers. 
It  was  locked  into  its  closet  with  a  solid  door, 
and  there  was  no  bell  to  summon  it,  or  any 
place  to  take  it  except  on  the  ground-floor  ; 
but  the  stairs  by  which  she  could  descend  were 
abundant  and  stately  ;  and  on  one  landing 
there  was  the  lithograph  of  one  of  the  largest 
and  ugliest  hotels  in  New  York  ;  how  ugly  it 
was  she  said  she  should  never  have  known  if 
she  had  not  seen  it  there. 

The  dining-room  was  divided  into  the  grand 
saloon,  where  they  supped  amid  rococo  sculpt- 
254 


tires  and  frescoes,  and  the  glazed  veranda 
opening  by  vast  windows  on  a  spread  of  tables 
without,  which  were  already  filling  up  for  the 
evening  concert.  Around  them  at  the  differ 
ent  tables  there  were  groups  of  faces  and  fig 
ures  fascinating  in  their  strangeness,  with  that 
distinction  which  abashes  our  American  level 
in  the  presence  of  European  inequality. 

"  How  simple  and  unimpressive  we  are, 
Basil,"  she  said,  "  beside  all  these  people!  I 
used  to  feel  it  in  Europe  when  I  was  young, 
and  now  I'm  certain  that  we  must  seem  like 
two  faded  -  in  old  village  photographs.  We 
don't  even  look  intellectual !  I  hope  we  look 
good" 

"  I  know  /  do,"  said  March.  The  waiter 
went  for  their  supper,  and  they  joined  in 
guessing  the  different  nationalities  in  the 
room.  A  French  party  was  easy  enough ;  a 
Spanish  mother  and  daughter  were  not  difficult, 
though  whether  they  were  not  South-Amer 
ican  remained  uncertain  ;  two  elderly  maiden 
ladies  were  unmistakably  of  central  Massachu 
setts,  and  were  obviously  of  a  book-club  cult 
ure  that  had  left  no  leaf  unturned  ;  some 
Triestines  gave  themselves  away  by  their 
Venetian  accent ;  but  a  large  group  at  a  far 
ther  table  were  unassignable  in  the  strange  lan 
guage  which  they  clattered  loudly  together, 
with  bursts  of  laughter.  They  were  a  family 
party  of  old  and  young,  they  were  having  a 
255 


good  time,  with  a  freedom  which  she  called 
baronial ;  the  ladies  wore  white  satin,  or  black 
lace,  but  the  men  were  in  sack  -  coats  ;  she 
chose  to  attribute  them,  for  no  reason  but 
their  outlandishness,  to  Transylvania.  March 
pretended  to  prefer  a  table  full  of  Germans, 
who  were  unmistakably  bourgeois,  and  yet  of 
intellectual  effect.  He  chose  as  his  favorite  a 
middle-aged  man  of  learned  aspect,  and  they 
both  decided  to  think  of  him  as  the  Herr  Pro 
fessor,  but  they  did  nbt  imagine  how  perfectly 
the  title  fitted  him  till  he  drew  a  long  comb 
from  his  waistcoat  -  pocket  and  combed  his 
hair  and  beard  with  it  above  the  table. 

The  wine  wrought  with  the  Transylvanians, 
and  they  all  jargoned  together  at  once,  and 
laughed  at  the  jokes  passing  among  them.  One 
old  gentleman  had  a  peculiar  fascination  from 
the  infantine  innocence  of  his  gums  when  he 
threw  his  head  back  to  laugh,  and  showed  an 
upper  jaw  toothless  except  for  two  incisors, 
standing  guard  over  the  chasm  between.  Sud 
denly  he  choked,  coughed  to  relieve  himself, 
hawked,  held  his  napkin  up  before  him,  and — 

" Noblesse  oblige"  said  March,  with  the  tone 
of  irony  which  he  reserved  for  his  wife's  pre 
occupations  with  aristocracies  of  all  sorts.  "  I 
think  I  prefer  my  Hair  Professor,  bourgeois  as 
he  is." 

The  ladies  attributively  of  central  Massachu 
setts  had  risen  from  their  table,  and  were  mak- 
256 


ing  for  the  door  without  having  paid  for  their 
supper.  The  head  waiter  ran  after  them ; 
with  a  real  delicacy  for  their  mistake  he  ex 
plained  that  though  in  most  places  meals  were 
charged  in  the  bill,  it  was  the  custom  in  Carls 
bad  to  pay  for  them  at  the  table  ;  one  could 
see  that  he  was  making  their  error  a  pleasant 
adventure  to  them  which  they  could  laugh 
over  together,  and  write  home  about  without 
a  pang. 

"  And  I,"  said  Mrs.  March,  shamelessly  aban 
doning  the  party  of  the  aristocracy,  "  prefer 
the  manners  of  the  lower  classes." 

"Oh  yes,"  he  admitted.  "The  only  man 
ners  we  have  at  home  are  black  ones.  But  you 
mustn't  lose  courage.  Perhaps  the  nobility 
are  not  always  so  baronial." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  we  have  manners  at 
home,"  she  said,  "and  I  don't  believe  I  care. 
At  least  we  have  decencies." 

"  Don't  be  a  jingo,"  said  her  husband. 


XXVI 

THOUGH  Stoller  had  formally  discharged 
Burnamy  from  duty  for  the  day,  he 
was  not  so  full  of  resources  in  himself 
and  he  had  not  so  general  an  acquaintance  in 
the  hotel  but  he  was  glad  to  have  the  young 
fellow  make  up  to  him  in  the  reading-room  that 
night.  He  laid  down  a  New  York  paper  ten 
days  old  in  despair  of  having  left  any  Ameri 
can  news  in  it,  and  pushed  several  continental 
Anglo-American  papers  aside  with  his  elbow 
as  he  gave  a  contemptuous  glance  at  the  for 
eign  journals,  in  Bohemian,  Hungarian,  Ger 
man,  French,  and  Italian,  which  littered  the 
large  table. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said,  "how  long  it'll  take  'em, 
over  here,  to  catch  on  to  our  way  of  having 
pictures  ?" 

Burnamy  had  come  to  his  newspaper  work 
since  illustrated   journalism   was   established, 
258 


and  he  had  never  had  any  shock  from  it  at 
home,  but  so  sensitive  is  youth  to  environment 
that  after  four  days  in  Europe  the  New  York 
paper  Stoller  had  laid  down  was  already  hid 
eous  to  him.  From  the  politic  side  of  his  nat 
ure,  however,  he  temporized  with  Stoller's  pref 
erence.  "  I  suppose  it  will  be  some  time  yet." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Stoller,  with  a  savage  disre 
gard  of  expressed  sequences  and  relevancies,  "  I 
could  ha'  got  some  pictures  to  send  home  with 
that  letter  this  afternoon;  something  to  show 
how  they  do  things  here,  and  be  a  kind  of  ob 
ject-lesson."  This  term  had  come  up  in  a  re 
cent  campaign  when  some  employers,  by  shut 
ting  down  their  works,  were  teaching  their  em 
ployees  what  would  happen  if  the  employees 
voted  their  political  opinions  into  effect,  and 
Stoller  had  then  mastered  its  meaning  and  was 
fond  of  using  it.  "  I'd  like  'em  to  see  the 
woods  around  here  that  the  city  owns,  and  the 
springs,  and. the  donkey-carts,  and  the  theatre, 
and  everything,  and  give  'em  some  practical 
ideas." 

Burnamy  made  an  uneasy  movement. 

"  I'd  'a'  liked  to  put  'em  alongside  of  some 
of  our  improvements,  and  show  how  a  town 
can  be  carried  on  when  it's  managed  on  busi 
ness  principles.  Why  didn't  you  think  of  it  ?" 

"  Really,  I  don't  know,"  said  Burnamy,  with 
a  touch  of  resentment. 

They  had  not  met  the  evening  before  on  the 
259 


best  of  terms.  Stoller  had  expected  Burnamy 
twenty-four  hours  earlier,  and  had  shown  his 
displeasure  with  him  for  loitering  a  day  at 
Leipsic  which  he  might  have  spent  at  Carlsbad ; 
and  Burnamy  had  been  unsatisfactory  in  ac 
counting  for  the  delay.  But  he  had  taken 
hold  so  promptly  and  so  intelligently  that  by 
working  far  into  the  night,  and  through  the 
whole  forenoon,  he  had  got  Stoller's  crude  mass 
of  notes  into  shape,  and  had  sent  off  in  time  for 
the  first  steamer  the  letter  which  was  to  appear 
over  the  proprietor's  name  in  his  paper.  It  was 
a  sort  of  rough  but  very  full  study  of  the  Carls 
bad  city  government,  the  methods  of  taxation, 
the  municipal  ownership  of  the  springs  and  the 
lands,  and  the  public  control  in  everything.  It 
condemned  the  aristocratic  constitution  of  the 
municipality,  but  it  charged  heavily  in  favor 
of  the  purity,  beneficence,  and  wisdom  of  the 
administration,  under  which  there  was  no  pov 
erty  and  no  idleness,  and  which  was  managed 
like  any  large  business. 

Stoller  had  sulkily  recurred  to  his  displeasure, 
once  or  twice,  and  Burnamy  had  suffered  it  sub 
missively  until  now.  But  now,  at  the  change  in 
Burnamy's  tone,  he  changed  his  manner  a  little. 

"  Seen  your  friends  since  supper  ?"  he  asked. 

"Only  a  moment.  They  are  rather  tired, 
and  they've  gone  to  bed." 

"That  the  fellow  that  edits  that  book  you 
write  for  ?" 

260 


"Yes  ;  he  owns  it,  too." 

The  notion  of  any  sort  of  ownership  moved 
Stoller's  respect,  and  he  asked,  more  defer 
entially,  "  Makin'  a  good  thing  out  of  it  ?" 

"A  living,  I  suppose.  Some  of  the  high- 
class  weeklies  feel  the  competition  of  the  ten- 
cent  monthlies.  But  Every  Other  Week  is  about 
the  best  thing  we  have  got  in  the  literary  way, 
and  I  guess  it's  holding  its  own." 

"  Have  to,  to  let  the  editor  come  to  Carls 
bad,"  Stoller  said,  with  a  return  to  the  sourness 
of  his  earlier  mood.  "  I  don't  know  as  I  care 
much  for  his  looks  ;  I  seen  him  when  he  came 
in  with  you.  No  snap  to  him."  He  clicked 
shut  the  penknife  he  had  been  paring  his  nails 
with,  and  started  up  with  the  abruptness  which 
marked  all  his  motions,  mental  and  physical ; 
as  he  walked  heavily  out  of  the  room  he  said, 
without  looking  round  at  Burnamy,  "You  want 
to  be  ready  by  half  past  ten  at  the  latest." 

Stoller's  father  and  mother  were  poor  emi 
grants  who  made  their  way  to  the  West  with 
the  instinct  for  a  sordid  prosperity  native  to 
their  race  and  class  ;  and  they  set  up  a  small 
butcher-shop  in  the  little  Indiana  town  where 
their  son  was  born,  and  throve  in  it  from  the 
start.  He  could  remember  his  mother  helping 
his  father  make  the  sausage  and  head-cheese 
and  pickle  the  pigs'  feet  which  they  took  turns 
in  selling  at  as  great  a  price  as  they  could  ex 
tort  from  the  townspeople.  She  was  a  good 
261 


and  tender  mother,  and  when  her  little  Yaw- 
cup,  as  the  boys  called  Jacob  in  mimicry  after 
her,  had  grown  to  school-going  age,  she  taught 
him  to  fight  the  Americans,  who  stoned  him 
when  he  came  out  of  his  gate,  and  mobbed  his 
home-coming  ;  and  mocked  and  tormented  him 
at  play-time  till  they  wore  themselves  into  a 
kindlier  mind  towards  him  through  the  exhaust 
ion  of  their  invention.  No  one,  so  far  as  the 
gloomy,  stocky,  rather  dense  little  boy  could 
make  out,  ever  interfered  in  his  behalf  ;  and  he 
grew  up  in  bitter  shame  for  his  German  origin, 
which  entailed  upon  him  the  hard  fate  of  being 
Dutch  among  the  Americans.  He  hated  his 
native  speech  so  much  that  he  cried  when  he 
was  forced  to  use  it  with  his  father  and  mother 
at  home  ;  he  furiously  denied  it  with  the  boys 
who  proposed  to  parley  with  him  in  it  on  such 
terms  as  "  Nix  come  arouce  in  de  Dytchman's 
house."  He  disused  it  so  thoroughly  that  after 
his  father  took  him  out  of  school,  when  he  was 
old  enough  to  help  in  the  shop,  he  could  not 
get  back  to  it.  He  regarded  his  father's  busi 
ness  as  part  of  his  national  disgrace,  and  at  the 
cost  of  leaving  his  home  he  broke  away  from 
it,  and  informally  apprenticed  himself  to  the 
village  blacksmith  and  wagon-maker.  When 
it  came  to  his  setting  up  for  himself  in  the 
business  he  had  chosen,  he  had  no  help  from  his 
father,  who  had  gone  on  adding  dollar  to  dollar 
till  he  was  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  place. 
262 


Jacob  prospered  too  ;  his  old  playmates,  who 
had  used  him  so  cruelly,  had  many  of  them 
come  to  like  him  ;  but  as  a  Dutchman  they 
never  dreamt  of  asking  him  to  their  houses 
when  they  were  young  people,  any  more  than 
when  they  were  children.  He  was  long  deeply 
in  love  with  an  American  girl  whom  he  had 
never  spoken  to,  and  the  dream  of  his  life  was 
to  marry  an  American.  He  ended  by  marry 
ing  the  daughter  of  Pferd  the  brewer,  who  had 
been  at  an  American  school  in  Indianapolis, 
and  had  come  home  as  fragilely  and  nasally 
American  as  anybody.  She  made  him  a  good, 
sickly,  fretful  wife,  and  bore  him  five  children, 
of  whom  two  survived,  with  no  visible  taint  of 
their  German  origin. 

In  the  mean  time  Jacob's  father  had  died  and 
left  his  money  to  his  son,  with  the  understand 
ing  that  he  was  to  provide  for  his  mother,  who 
would  gladly  have  given  every  cent  to  him  and 
been  no  burden  to  him,  if  she  could.  He  took 
her  home,  and  cared  tenderly  for  her  as  long 
as  she  lived ;  and  she  meekly  did  her  best  to 
abolish  herself  in  a  household  trying  so  hard  to 
be  American.  She  could  not  help  her  native 
accent,  but  she  kept  silence  when  her  son's 
wife  had  company  ;  and  when  her  eldest 
grand  -  daughter  began  very  early  to  have 
American  callers,  she  went  out  of  the  room ; 
they  would  not  have  noticed  her  if  she  had 
stayed. 

263 


Before  this  Jacob  had  come  forward  publicly 
in  proportion  to  his  financial  importance  in  the 
community.  He  first  commended  himself  to 
the  Better  Element  by  crushing  out  a  strike  in 
his  Buggy  Works,  which  were  now  the  largest 
business  interest  of  the  place  ;  and  he  rose  on 
a  wave  of  municipal  reform  to  such  a  height  of 
favor  with  the  respectable  classes  that  he  was 
elected  on  a  citizens'  ticket  to  the  Legislature. 
In  the  reaction  which  followed  he  was  barely 
defeated  for  Congress  ;  and  was  talked  of  as  a 
dark  horse  who  might  be  put  up  for  the  gov 
ernorship  some  day  ;  but  those  who  knew  him 
best  predicted  that  he  would  not  get  far  in 
politics,  where  his  bull-headed  business  ways 
would  bring  him  to  ruin  sooner  or  later  ;  they 
said,  "You  can't  swing  a  bolt  like  you  can  a 
strike." 

When  his  mother  died,  he  surprised  his  old 
neighbors  by  going  to  live  in  Chicago,  though 
he  kept  his  works  in  the  place  where  he  and 
they  had  grown  up  together.  His  wife  died 
shortly  after,  and  within  four  years  he  lost  his 
three  eldest  children  ;  his  son,  it  was  said,  had 
begun  to  go  wrong  first.  But  the  rumor  of 
his  increasing  wealth  drifted  back  from  Chi 
cago  ;  he  was  heard  of  in  different  enterprises 
and  speculations  ;  at  last  it  was  said  that  he 
had  bought  a  newspaper,  and  then  his  boyhood 
friends  decided  that  Jake  was  going  into  politics 
again. 

264 


In  the  wider  horizons  and  opener  atmosphere 
of  the  great  city  he  came  to  understand  better 
that  to  be  an  American  in  all  respects  was  not 
the  best.  His  mounting  sense  of  importance 
began  to  be  retroactive  in  the  direction  of  his 
ancestral  home ;  he  wrote  back  to  the  little  town 
near  Wiirzburg  which  his  people  had  come  from, 
and  found  that  he  had  relatives  still  living  there, 
some  of  whom  had  become  people  of  substance ; 
and  about  the  time  his  health  gave  way  from 
life-long  gluttony,  and  he  was  ordered  to  Carls 
bad,  he  had  pretty  much  made  up  his  mind  to 
take  his  younger  daughters  and  put  them  in 
school  for  a  year  or  two  in  Wiirzburg,  for  a 
little  discipline  if  not  education.  He  had  now 
left  them  there,  to  learn  the  language,  which 
he  had  forgotten  with  such  heart-burning  and 
shame,  and  music,  for  which  they  had  some 
taste. 

The  twins  loudly  lamented  their  fate,  and 
they  parted  from  their  father  with  open  threats 
of  running  away  ;  and  in  his  heart  he  did  not 
altogether  blame  them.  He  came  away  from 
Wtirzburg  raging  at  the  disrespect  for  his 
money  and  his  standing  in  business  which  had 
brought  him  a  more  galling  humiliation  there 
than  anything  he  had  suffered  in  his  boyhood 
at  Des  Vaches.  It  intensified  him  in  his  dear- 
bought  Americanism  to  the  point  of  wishing  to 
commit  lese-majesty  in  the  teeth  of  some  local 
dignitaries  who  had  snubbed  him,  and  who 
265 


seemed  to  enjoy  putting  our  eagle  to  shame  in 
his  person  ;  there  was  something  like  the  bird 
of  his  step-country  in  Stoller's  pale  eyes  and 
huge  beak. 


M 


XXVII 

ARCH  sat  with  a  company  of  other 
patients  in  the  anteroom  of  the  doc 
tor,  and  when  it  came  his  turn  to  be 
prodded  and  kneaded,  he  was  ashamed  at  be 
ing  told  he  was  not  so  bad  a  case  as  he  had 
dreaded.  The  doctor  wrote  out  a  careful  diet 
ary  for  him,  with  a  prescription  of  a  certain 
number  of  glasses  of  water  at  a  certain  spring, 
and  a  certain  number  of  baths,  and  a  rule  for 
the  walks  he  was  to  take  before  and  after  eat 
ing  ;  then  the  doctor  patted  him  on  the  shoul 
der  and  pushed  him  caressingly  out  of  his 
inner  office.  It  was  too  late  to  begin  his  treat 
ment  that  day,  but  he  went  with  his  wife  to 
buy  a  cup,  with  a  strap  for  hanging  it  over  his 
shoulder,  and  he  put  it  on  so  as  to  be  an  in 
valid  with  the  others  at  once  ;  he  came  near 
forgetting  the  small  napkin  of  Turkish  towel 
ling  which  they  stuffed  into  their  cups,  but 
267 


happily  the  shopman  called  him  back  in  time 
to  sell  it  him. 

At  five  the  next  morning  he  rose,  and  on  his 
way  to  the  street  exchanged  with  the  servants 
cleaning  the  hotel  stairs  the  first  of  the  gloomy 
Guten  Morgens  which  usher  in  the  day  at  Carls 
bad.  They  seemed  to  be  evoked  from  the  dark 
est  recesses  of  the  soul,  but  the  hopeless  tone 
in  which  they  were  uttered  is  probably  expres 
sive  only  of  the  general  despair  of  getting 
through  with  them  before  night ;  and  March 
heard  the  sorrowful  salutations  on  every  hand 
as  he  joined  the  straggling  current  of  invalids 
which  swelled  on  the  way  past  the  silent  shops 
and  cafes  in  the  Alte  Wiese,  till  it  filled  the 
street,  and  poured  out  its  thousands  on  the 
promenade  before  the  classic  colonnade  of  the 
Muhlbrunn.  On  the  other  bank  of  the  Tepl 
the  Sprudel  flings  its  steaming  waters  by  ir 
regular  impulses  into  the  air  under  a  pavilion 
of  iron  and  glass  ;  but  the  Muhlbrunn  is  the 
source  of  most  resort.  There  is  an  instru 
mental  concert  somewhere  in  Carlsbad  from 
early  rising  till  bedtime  ;  and  now  at  the  Muhl 
brunn  there  was  an  orchestra  already  playing ; 
under  the  pillared  porch,  as  well  as  before 
it,  the  multitude  shuffled  up  and  down  drain 
ing  their  cups  by  slow  sips,  and  then  taking 
each  his  place  in  the  interminable  line  moving 
on  to  replenish  them  at  the  spring. 

A  picturesque  majority  of  Polish  Jews,  whom 
268 


THE   BRIDGE  AT   THE   END   OF   THE   COLONNADE 


some  vice  of  their  climate  is  said  peculiarly  to 
fit  for  the  healing  effects  of  Carlsbad,  most  took 
his  eye  in  their  long  gabardines  of  rusty  black 
and  their  derby  hats  of  plush  or  velvet,  with 
their  corkscrew  curls  coming  down  before 
their  ears.  They  were  old  and  youn.g,  they 
were  grizzled  and  red  and  black,  but  they 
seemed  all  well-to-do ;  and  what  impresses  one 
first  and  last  at  Carlsbad  is  that  its  waters  are 
mainly  for  the  healing  of  the  rich.  After  the 
Polish  Jews,  the  Greek  priests  of  Russian  race 
were  the  most  striking  figures.  There  were 
types  of  Latin  ecclesiastics,  who  were  striking 
in  their  way  too  ;  and  the  uniforms  of  certain 
Austrian  officers  and  soldiers  brightened  the 
picture.  Here  and  there  a  southern  face,  Italian 
or  Spanish  or  Levantine,  looked  passionately 
out  of  the  mass  of  dull  German  visages  ;  for 
at  Carlsbad  the  Germans,  more  than  any  other 
gentile  nation,  are  to  the  fore.  Their  misfits, 
their  absence  of  style,  imparted  the  prevalent 
effect ;  though  now  and  then  among  the  wom 
en  a  Hungarian,  or  Pole,  or  Parisian,  or  Amer 
ican,  relieved  the  eye  which  seeks  beauty  and 
grace  rather  than  the  domestic  virtues.  There 
were  certain  faces,  types  of  discomfort  and  dis 
ease,  which  appealed  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end.  A  young  Austrian,  yellow  as  gold, 
and  a  livid  South-American,  were  of  a  lasting 
fascination  to  March. 

What  most  troubled  him,  in  his  scrutiny  of 
271 


the  crowd,  was  the  difficulty  of  assigning 
people  to  their  respective  nations,  and  he  ac 
cused  his  age  of  having  dulled  his  percep 
tions  ;  but  perhaps  it  was  from  their  long  dis 
use  in  his  homogeneous  American  world.  The 
Americans  themselves  fused  with  the  Euro 
pean  races  who  were  often  so  hard  to  make 
out ;  his  fellow  -  citizens  would  not  be  identi 
fied  till  their  bad  voices  gave  them  away;  he 
thought  the  women's  voices  the  worst. 

At  the  springs,  a  line  of  young  girls  with  a 
steady  mechanical  action  dipped  the  cups  into 
the  steaming  source,  and  passed  them  im 
personally  up  to  their  owners.  With  the  pa 
tients  at  the  Muhlbrunn  it  was  often  a  half- 
hour  before  one's  turn  came,  and  at  all  a  strict 
etiquette  forbade  any  attempt  to  anticipate  it. 
The  water  was  merely  warm  and  flat,  and  after 
the  first  repulsion  one  could  forget  it.  March 
formed  a  childish  habit  of  counting  ten  be 
tween  the  sips,  and  of  finishing  the  cup  with  a 
gulp  which  ended  it  quickly  ;  he  varied  his 
walks  between  cups  by  going  sometimes  to  a 
bridge  at  the  end  of  the  colonnade  where  a 
group  of  Triestines  were  talking  Venetian,  and 
sometimes  to  the  little  Park  beyond  the  Kur- 
haus,  where  some  old  women  were  sweeping  up 
from  the  close  sward  the  yellow  leaves  which 
the  trees  had  untidily  dropped  overnight.  He 
liked  to  sit  there  and  look  at  the  city  beyond  the 
Tepl,  where  it  climbed  the  wooded  heights  in 
272 


terraces  till  it  lost  its  houses  in  the  skirts  and 
folds  of  the  forest.  Most  mornings  it  rain 
ed,  quietly,  absent-mindedly,  and  this,  with  the 
chill  in  the  air,  deepened  a  pleasant  illusion  of 
Quebec  offered  by  the  upper  town  across  the 
stream  ;  but  there  were  sunny  mornings  when 
the  mountains  shone  softly  through  a  lustrous 
mist,  and  the  air  was  almost  warm. 

Once  in  his  walk  he  found  himself  the  com 
panion  of  Burnamy's  employer,  whom  he  had 
sometimes  noted  in  the  line  at  the  Muhlbrunn, 
waiting  his  turn,  cup  in  hand,  with  a  face 
of  sullen  impatience.  Stoller  explained  that 
though  you  could  have  the  water  brought  to 
you  at  your  hotel,  he  chose  to  go  to  the  spring 
for  the  sake  of  the  air  ;  it  was  something  you 
had  got  to  live  through ;  before  he  had  that 
young  Burnamy  to  help  him  he  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  his  time,  but  now,  every  min 
ute  he  was  not  eating  or  sleeping  he  was  work 
ing  ;  his  cure  did  not  oblige  him  to  walk  much. 
He  examined  March,  with  a  certain  mixture  of 
respect  and  contempt,  upon  the  nature  of  the 
literary  life,  and  how  it  differed  from  the  life 
of  the  journalist.  He  asked  if  he  thought  Bur 
namy  would  amount  to  anything  as  a  literary 
man  ;  he  so  far  assented  to  March's  faith  in 
him  as  to  say,  "  He's  smart."  He  told  of  leav 
ing  his  daughters  in  school  at  Wurzburg  ;  and 
upon  the  whole  he  moved  March  with  a  sense 
of  his  pathetic  loneliness  without  moving  his 
275 


liking,  as  he  passed  lumberingly  on,  dangling 
his  cup. 

March  gave  his  own  cup  to  the  little  maid  at 
his  spring,  and  while  she  gave  it  to  a  second, 
who  dipped  it  and  handed  it  to  a  third  for  its 
return  to  him,  he  heard  an  unmistakable  fellow- 
countryman  saying  good-morning  to  them  all 
in  English.  "Are  you  going  to  teach  them 
United  States?"  he  asked  of  a  face  with  which 
he  knew  such  an  appeal  could  not  fail. 

"  Well,"  the  man  admitted,  "  I  try  to  teach 
them  that  much.  They  like  it.  You  are  an 
American  ?  I  am  glad  of  it.  I  have  'most  lost 
the  use  of  my  lungs  here.  I'm  a  great  talker, 
and  I  talk  to  my  wife  till  she's  about  dead  ; 
then  I'm  out  of  it  for  the  rest  of  the  day  ;  I 
can't  speak  German." 

His  manner  was  the  free,  friendly  manner 
of  the  West.  He  must  be  that  sort  of  un- 
travelled  American  whom  March  had  so  seldom 
met,  but  he  was  afraid  to  ask  him  if  this  was 
his  first  time  at  Carlsbad  lest  it  should  prove 
the  third  or  fourth.  "Are  you  taking  the 
cure  ?"  he  asked  instead. 

"Oh  no.  My  wife  is.  She'll  be  along  di 
rectly;  I  come  down  here  and  drink  the  wa 
ters  to  encourage  her  ;  doctor  said  to.  That 
gets  me  in  for  the  diet,  too.  I've  e't  more 
cooked  fruit  since  I  been  here  than  I  ever  did 
in  my  life  before.  Prunes  ?  My  Lord,  I'm/H// 
o'  prunes !  Well,  it  does  me  good  to  see  an 
276 


SPKUDEL    SPRING 


American,  to  know  him.  I  couldn't  'a'  told  you, 
if  you  hadn't  have  spoken." 

"Well,"  said  March,  "I  shouldn't  have  been 
sure  of  you,  either,  by  your  looks." 

"Yes,  we  can't  always  tell  ourselves  from 
these  Dutch.  But  they  know  us,  and  they  don't 
want  us,  except  just  for  one  thing,  and  that's 
our  money.  I  tell  you,  the  Americans  are  the 
chumps  over  here.  Soon's  they  got  all  our 
money,  or  think  they  have,  they  say,  '  Here, 
you  Americans,  this  is  my  country  ;  you  get 
off ' ;  and  we  got  to  get.  Ever  been  over  be 
fore  ?" 

"A  great  while  ago ;  so  long  that  I  can  hard 
ly  believe  it." 

"  It's  my  first  time.  My  name's  Otterson  ; 
I'm  from  out  in  Iowa." 

March  gave  him  his  name,  and  added  that 
he  was  from  New  York. 

"  Yes.  I  thought  you  was  Eastern.  But 
that  wasn't  an  Eastern  man  you  was  just 
with  ?" 

"  No  ;  he's  from  Chicago.  He's  a  Mr.  Stol- 
ler." 

"  Not  the  buggy  man  ?" 

"  I  believe  he  makes  buggies." 

"Well,  you  do  meet  everybody  here."  The 
lowan  was  silent  for  a  moment,  as  if  hushed  by 
the  weighty  thought.  "  I  wish  my  wife  could 
have  seen  him.  I  just  want  her  to  see  the 
man  that  made  our  buggy.  /  don't  know 
279 


what's  keeping  her,  this  morning,"  he  added, 
apologetically.  "  Look  at  that  fellow,  will  you, 
tryin'  to  get  away  from  those  women  !"  A 
young  officer  was  doing  his  best  to  take  leave 
of  two  ladies,  who  seemed  to  be  mother  and 
daughter  ;  they  detained  him  by  their  united 
arts,  and  clung  to  him  with  caressing  words 
and  looks.  He  was  red  in  the  face  with  his 
polite  struggles  when  he  broke  from  them  at 
last.  "  How  they  do  hang  on  to  a  man  over 
here  !"  the  Iowa  man  continued.  "  And  the 
Americans  are  as  bad  as  any.  Why,  there's 
one  ratty  little  Englishman  up  at  our  place, 
and  our  girls  just  swarm  after  him  ;  their 
mothers  are  worse.  Well,  it's  so,  Jenny,"  he 
said  to  the  lady  who  had  joined  them,  and 
whom  March  turned  round  to  see  when  he 
spoke  to  her.  "If  I  wanted  a  foreigner,  I 
should  go  in  for  a  man.  And  these  officers  ! 
Put  their  mustaches  up  at  night  in  curl-papers, 
they  tell  me.  Introduce  you  to  Mrs.  Otterson, 
Mr.  March.  Well,  had  your  first  glass,  yet, 
Jenny  ?  I'm  just  going  for  my  second  tum 
bler." 

He  took  his  wife  back  to  the  spring,  and  be 
gan  to  tell  her  about  Stoller  ;  she  made  no 
sign  of  caring  for  him  ;  and  March  felt  incul 
pated.  She  relented  a  little  towards  him  as 
they  drank  together  ;  when  he  said  he  must 
be  going  to  breakfast  with  his  wife,  she  asked 
where  he  breakfasted,  and  said,  "  Why,  we  go 
280 


to  the  Posthof,  too."  He  answered  that  then 
they  should  be  sure  some  time  to  meet  there  ; 
he  did  not  venture  further  ;  he  reflected  that 
Mrs.  March  had  her  reluctances  too  ;  she  dis 
trusted  people  who  had  amused  or  interested 
him  before  she  met  them. 


XXVIII 

BURNAMY   had   found   the   Posthof  for 
them,  as   he   had    found   most    of   the 
other    agreeable    things    in    Carlsbad, 
which  he  brought  to  their  knowledge  one  by 
one,  with  such  forethought  that  March  said  he 
hoped  he  should  be  cared  for  in  his  declining 
years  as  an  editor  rather  than  as  a  father  ; 
there   was  no   tenderness   like  a  young   con 
tributor's. 

Many  people  from  the  hotels  on  the  hill 
found  at  Pupp's  just  the  time  and  space  be 
tween  their  last  cup  of  water  and  their  first  cup 
of  the  coffee  which  was  prescribed  at  Carlsbad  ; 
but  the  Marches  were  aware  somehow  from 
the  beginning  that  Pupp's  had  not  the  hold 
upon  the  world  at  breakfast  which  it  had  at 
the  mid-day  dinner,  or  at  supper  on  the  even 
ings  when  the  concert  was  there.  Still  it  was 
amusing,  and  they  were  patient  of  Burnamy's 
282 


delay  till  he  could  get  a  morning  off  from 
Stoller  and  go  with  them  to  the  Posthof.  He 
met  Mrs.  March  in  the  reading-room,  where 
March  was  to  join  them  on  his  way  from  the 
springs  with  his  bag  of  bread.  The  earlier 
usage  of  buying  the  delicate  pink  slices  of 
Westphalia  ham,  which  form  the  chief  motive 
of  a  Carlsbad  breakfast,  at  a  certain  shop  in  the 
town,  and  carrying  them  to  the  cafe  with  you, 
is  no  longer  of  such  binding  force  as  the  cus 
tom  of  getting  your  bread  at  the  Swiss  bakery. 
You  choose  it  yourself  at  the  counter,  which 
begins  to  be  crowded  by  half  past  seven,  and 
when  you  have  collected  the  prescribed  loaves 
into  the  basket  of  metallic  filigree  given  you 
by  one  of  the  baker's  maids,  she  puts  it  into 
a  tissue-paper  bag  of  a  gay  red  color,  and  you 
join  the  other  invalids  streaming  away  from 
the  bakery,  their  paper  bags  making  a  festive 
rustling  as  they  go. 

Two  roads  lead  out  of  the  town  into  the 
lovely  meadow -lands,  a  good  mile  up  the 
brawling  Tepl,  before  they  join  on  the  right 
side  of  the  torrent,  where  the  Posthof  lurks  nes 
tled  under  trees  whose  boughs  let  the  sun  and 
rain  impartially  through  upon  its  army  of  little 
tables.  By  this  time  the  slow  omnibus  plying 
between  Carlsbad  and  some  villages  in  the  val 
ley  beyond  has  crossed  from  the  left  bank  to 
the  right,  and  keeps  on  past  half  a  dozen  cafes, 
where  patients  whose  prescriptions  marshal 
283 


them  beyond  the  Posthof  drop  off  by  the  doz 
ens  and  scores. 

•  The  road  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Tepl  is  wild 
and  overhung  at  points  with  wooded  steeps, 
when  it  leaves  the  town  ;  but  on  the  right  it 
is  bordered  with  shops  and  restaurants  a  good 
part  of  its  length.  In  leafy  nooks  between 
these,  uphill  walks  begin  their  climb  of  the 
mountains,  from  the  foot  of  votive  shrines  set 
round  with  tablets  commemorating  in  German, 
French,  Russian,  Hebrew,  Magyar,  and  Czech, 
the  cure  of  highwellborns  of  all  those  races  and 
languages.  Booths  glittering  with  the  lapi 
dary's  work  in  the  cheaper  gems,  or  full  of 
the  ingenious  figures  of  the  toy-makers,  alter 
nate  with  the  shrines  and  the  cafes  on  the  way 
to  the  Posthof,  and  with  their  shoulders  against 
the  overhanging  cliff,  spread  for  the  passing 
crowd  a  lure  of  Viennese  jewelry  in  garnets, 
opals,  amethysts,  and  the  like,  and  of  such 
Bohemian  playthings  as  carrot-eating  rabbits, 
worsted-working  cats,  dancing-bears,  and  pea 
cocks  that  strut  about  the  feet  of  the  passers 
and  expand  their  iridescent  tails  in  mimic 
pride. 

Burnamy  got  his  charges  with  difficulty  by 
the  shrines  in  which  they  felt  the  far-reflected 
charm  of  the  crucifixes  of  the  white-hot  Italian 
highways  of  their  early  travel,  and  by  the  toy 
shops  where  they  had  a  mechanical,  out-dated 
impulse  to  get  something  for  the  children,  end- 
284 


ing  in  a  pang  for  the  fact  that  they  were  chil 
dren  no  longer.  He  waited  politely  while  Mrs. 
March  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would  not 
buy  any  laces  of  the  motherly  old  women  who 
showed  them  under  pent -roofs  on  way  -  side 
tables  ;  and  he  waited  patiently  at  the  gate  of 
the  flower  -  gardens  beyond  the  shops  where 
March  bought  lavishly  of  sweet-pease  from  the 
businesslike  flower-women,  and  feigned  a  grate 
ful  joy  in  them  because  they  knew  no  English, 
and  gave  him  a  chance  of  speaking  his  German. 

"  You'll  find,"  he  said,  as  they  crossed  the 
road  again,  "that  it's  well  to  trifle  a  good  deal; 
it  makes  the  time  pass.  I  should  still  be  lag 
ging  along  in  my  thirties  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
fooling,  and  here  I  am  well  on  in  my  fifties,  and 
Mrs.  March  is  younger  than  ever." 

They  were  at  the  gate  of  the  garden  and 
grounds  of  the  cafe  at  last,  and  a  turn  of  the 
path  brought  them  to  the  prospect  of  its  tables, 
under  the  trees,  between  the  two  long  glazed 
galleries  where  the  breakfasters  take  refuge  at 
other  tables  when  it  rains  ;  it  rains  nearly  al 
ways,  and  the  trunks  of  the  trees  are  as  green 
with  damp  as  if  painted  ;  but  that  morning  the 
sun  was  shining.  At  the  verge  of  the  open 
space  a  band  of  pretty  serving-maids,  each  with 
her  name  on  a  silver  band  pinned  upon  her 
breast,  met  them  and  bade  them  a  Guten  Mor- 
gen  of  almost  cheerful  note,  but  gave  way  to  an 
eager  little  smiling  blonde,  who  came  pushing 
285 


down  the  path  at  sight  of  Burnamy,  and  claimed 
him  for  her  own. 

"Ah,  Lili !  We  want  an  extra  good  table, 
this  morning.  These  are  some  American  Ex 
cellencies,  and  you  must  do  your  best  for  them." 

"Oh  yes,"  the  girl  answered  in  English,  after 
a  radiant  salutation  of  the  Marches ;  "  I  get 
you  one.  You  are  a  little  more  formerly,  to 
day,  and  I  didn't  had  one  already." 

She  ran  among  the  tables  along  the  edge  of 
the  western  gallery,  and  was  far  beyond  hear 
ing  his  protest  that  he  was  not  earlier  than 
usual  when  she  beckoned  him  to  the  table  she 
had  found.  She  had  crowded  it  in  between 
two  belonging  to  other  girls,  and  by  the  time 
her  breakfasters  came  up  she  was  ready  for 
their  order,  with  the  pouting  pretence  that  the 
girls  always  tried  to  rob  her  of  the  best  places. 
Burnamy  explained  proudly  when  she  went 
that  none  of  the  other  girls  ever  got  an  ad 
vantage  of  her  ;  she  had  more  custom  than  any 
three  of  them,  and  she  had  hired  a  man  to  help 
her  carry  her  orders.  The  girls  were  all  from 
the  neighboring  villages,  he  said,  and  they  lived 
at  home  in  the  winter  on  their  summer  tips  ; 
their  wages  were  nothing,  or  less,  for  some 
times  they  paid  for  their  places. 

"What  a  mass  of  information  !"  said  March. 
"  How  did  you  come  by  it  ?" 

"  Newspaper  habit  of  interviewing  the  uni 
verse." 

286 


"  It's  not  a  bad  habit,  if  one  doesn't  carry  it 
too  far.  How  did  Lili  learn  her  English  ?" 

"  She  takes  lessons  in  the  winter.  She's  a 
perfect  little  electric  motor.  I  don't  believe 
any  Yankee  girl  could  equal  her." 

"  She  would  expect  to  marry  a  millionaire  if 
she  did.  What  astonishes  one  over  here  is  to 
see  how  contentedly  people  prosper  along  on 
their  own  level.  And  the  women  do  twice  the 
work  of  the  men  without  expecting  to  equal 
them  in  any  other  way.  At  Pupp's,  if  we  go 
to  one  end  of  the  out-door  restaurant,  it  takes 
three  men  to  wait  on  us  :  one  to  bring  our 
coffee  or  tea,  another  to  bring  our  bread  and 
meat,  and  another  to  make  out  our  bill,  and  I 
have  to  tip  all  three  of  them.  If  we  go  to  the 
other  end,  one  girl  serves  us,  and  I  have  to 
give  only  one  fee  ;  I  make  it  less  than  the  least 
I  give  any  three  of  the  men  waiters." 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  that,"  said  his 
wife. 

"  I'm  not.  I'm  simply  proud  of  your  sex,  my 
dear." 

"Women  do  nearly  everything,  here,"  said 
Burnamy,  impartially.  "They  built  that  big 
new  Kaiserbad  building  :  mixed  the  mortar, 
carried  the  hods,  and  laid  the  stone." 

"  That  makes  me  prouder  of  the  sex  than 
ever.  But  come,  Mr.  Burnamy  !  Isn't  there 
anybody  of  polite  interest  that  you  know  of  in 
this  crowd  ?" 

T  289 


"Well,  I  can't  say,"  Burnamy  hesitated. 

The  breakfasters  had  been  thronging  into 
the  grove  and  the  galleries;  the  tables  were 
already  filled,  and  men  were  bringing  other 
tables  in  on  their  heads,  and  making  places  for 
them,  with  entreaties  for  pardon  everywhere  ; 
the  proprietor  was  anxiously  directing  them  ; 
the  pretty  serving-girls  were  running  to  and 
from  the  kitchen  in  a  building  apart  with  shrill, 
sweet  promises  of  haste.  The  morning  sun  fell 
broken  through  the  leaves  on  the  gay  hats  and 
dresses  of  the  ladies,  and  dappled  the  figures  of 
the  men  with  harlequin  patches  of  light  and 
shade.  A  tall  woman,  with  a  sort  of  sharpened 
beauty,  and  an  artificial  permanency  of  tint  in 
her  cheeks  and  yellow  hair,  came  trailing  herself 
up  the  sun-shot  path,  and  found,  with  hardy  in 
sistence  upon  the  publicity,  places  for  the  surly 
looking,  down -faced  young  man  behind  her, 
and  for  her  maid  and  her  black  poodle  ;  the  dog 
was  like  the  black  poodle  out  of  Faust.  Bur 
namy  had  heard  her  history  ;  in  fact  he  had 
already  roughed  out  a  poem  on  it,  which  he 
called  Europa,  not  after  the  old  fable,  but  be 
cause  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  expressed  Eu 
rope,  on  one  side  of  its  civilization,  and  had  an 
authorized  place  in  its  order,  as  she  would  not 
have  had  in  ours.  She  was  where  she  was  by 
a  toleration  of  certain  social  facts  which  cor 
responds  in  Europe  to  our  reverence  for  the 
vested  interests.  In  her  history  there  had  been 
290 


officers  and  bankers  ;  even  foreign  dignitaries ; 
now  there  was  this  sullen  young  fellow. . . .  Bur- 
namy  had  wondered  if  it  would  do  to  offer  his 
poem  to  March,  but  the  presence  of  the  original 
abashed  him,  and  in  his  mind  he  had  torn  the 
poem  up,  with  a  heartache  for  its  aptness. 

"I  don't  believe,"  he  said,  "  that  I  recognize 
any  celebrities  here." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  March.  "  Mrs.  March  would 
have  been  glad  of  some  Hoheits,  some  Grafs 
and  Grafins,  or  a  few  Excellenzes,  or  even  some 
mere  wellborns.  But  we  must  try  to  get  along 
with  the  picturesqueness." 

"  I'm  satisfied  with  the  picturesqueness,"  said 
his  wife.  "Don't  worry  about  me,  Mr.  Bur- 
namy.  Why  can't  we  have  this  sort  of  thing 
at  home  ?" 

"We're  getting  something  like  it  in  the  roof- 
gardens,"  said  March.  "We  couldn't  have  it 
naturally  because  the  climate  is  against  it,  with 
us.  At  this  time  in  the  morning  over  there, 
the  sun  would  be  burning  the  life  out  of  the  air, 
and  the  flies  would  be  swarming  on  every  table. 
At  nine  P.M.  the  mosquitoes  would  be  eating  us 
up  in  such  a  grove  as  this.  So  we  have  to  use 
artifice,  and  lift  our  Posthofs  above  the  fly-line 
and  the  mosquito  -  line  into  the  night  air.  I 
haven't  seen  a  fly  since  I  came  to  Europe.  I 
really  miss  them  ;  it  makes  me  homesick." 

"There  are  plenty  in  Italy,"  his  wife  sug 
gested. 

291 


"  We  must  get  down  there  and  get  some  before 
we  go  home.  But  why  did  nobody  ever  tell  us 
that  there  were  no  flies  in  Germany  ?  Why  did 
no  traveller  ever  put  it  in  his  book  ?  When  your 
stewardess  said  so  on  the  steamer,  I  remember 
that  you  regarded  it  as  a  bluff."  He  turned  to 
Burnamy,  who  was  listening  with  the  deference 
of  a  contributor:  "Isn't  Lili  rather  long?  I 
mean  for  such  a  very  prompt  person.  Oh 
no  !" 

But  Burnamy  got  to  his  feet,  and  shouted 
"  Fraulein  !"  to  Lili  ;  with  her  hireling  at  her 
heels  she  was  flying  down  a  distant  aisle  be 
tween  the  tables,  bearing  laden  trays.  She 
called  back,  with  a  face  laughing  over  her 
shoulder,  "  In  a  minute  !"  and  vanished  in  the 
crowd. 

"Does  that  mean  anything  in  particular? 
There's  really  no  hurry." 

"  Oh,  I  think  she'll  come  now,"  said  Burnamy. 
March  protested  that  he  had  only  been  amused 
at  Lili's  delay  ;  but  his  wife  scolded  him  for  his 
impatience ;  she  begged  Burnamy's  pardon, 
and  repeated  civilities  passed  between  them. 
She  asked  if  he  did  not  think  some  of  the  young 
ladies  were  pretty  beyond  the  European  aver 
age  ;  a  very  few  had  style  ;  the  mothers  were 
mostly  fat,  and  not  stylish  ;  it  was  well  not  to 
regard  the  fathers  too  closely ;  several  old 
gentlemen  were  clearing  their  throats  behind 
their  newspapers,  with  noises  that  made  her 
292 


quail.  There  was  no  one  so  effective  as  the 
Austrian  officers,  who  put  themselves  a  good 
deal  on  show,  bowing  from  their  hips  to  favored 
groups  ;  with  the  sun  glinting  from  their  eye 
glasses,  and  their  hands  pressing  their  sword- 
hilts,  they  moved  between  the  tables  with  the 
gait  of  tight-laced  women. 

"  They  all  wear  corsets,"  Burnamy  explained. 

"  How  much  you  know  already  !"  said  Mrs. 
March.  "  I  can  see  that  Europe  won't  be  lost 
on  you  in  anything.  Oh,  who's  that  f"  A  lady 
whose  costume  expressed  Paris  at  every  point 
glided  up  the  middle  aisle  of  the  grove  with  a 
graceful  tilt.  Burnamy  was  silent.  "  She  must 
be  an  American.  Do  you  know  who  she  is?" 

"Yes."  He  hesitated  a  little  to  name  a 
woman  whose  tragedy  had  once  filled  the  news 
papers. 

Mrs.  March  gazed  after  her  with  the  fasci 
nation  which  such  tragedies  inspire.  "What 
grace  !  Is  she  beautiful  ?" 

"Very." 

Burnamy  had  not  obtruded  his  knowledge, 
but  somehow  Mrs.  March  did  not  like  his  know 
ing  who  she  was,  and  how  beautiful.  She  asked 
March  to  look,  but  he  refused. 

"  Those  things  are  too  squalid,"  he  said,  and 
she  liked  him  for  saying  it ;  she  hoped  it  would 
not  be  lost  upon  Burnamy. 

One  of  the  waitresses  tripped  on  the  steps 
near  them  and  flung  the  burden  off  her  tray  on 
293 


the  stone  floor  before  her ;  some  of  the  dishes 
broke,  and  the  breakfast  was  lost.  Tears  came 
into  the  girl's  eyes  and  rolled  down  her  hot 
cheeks.  "  There  !  That  is  what  I  call  trag 
edy,"  said  March.  "  She'll  have  to  pay  for  those 
things." 

"  Oh,  give  her  the  money,  dearest !" 

"  How  can  I  ?" 

The  girl  had  just  got  away  with  the  ruin 
when  Lili  and  her  hireling  behind  her  came 
bearing  down  upon  them  with  their  three  sub 
stantial  breakfasts  on  two  well  -  laden  trays. 
She  forestalled  Burnamy's  reproaches  for  her 
delay,  laughing  and  bridling,  while  she  set  down 
the  dishes  of  ham  and  tongue  and  egg,  and  the 
little  pots  of  coffee  and  frothed  milk. 

"  I  could  not  so  soon  I  wanted,  because  I  was 
to  serve  an  American  princess." 

Mrs.  March  started  with  proud  conjecture 
of  one  of  those  noble  international  marriages 
which  fill  our  women  with  vainglory  for  such 
of  their  compatriots  as  make  them. 

"Oh,  come  now,  Lili  !"  said  Burnamy.  "We 
have  queens  in  America,  but  nothing  so  low  as 
princesses.  This  was  a  queen,  wasn't  it  ?" 

She  referred  the  case  to  her  hireling,  who 
confirmed  her.  "All  people  say  it  is  princess," 
she  insisted. 

"  Well,  if  she's  a  princess  we  must  look  her 
up  after  breakfast,"  said  Burnamy.  "  Where  is 
she  sitting?" 

294 


She  pointed  at  a  corner  so  far  off  on  the  other 
side  that  no  one  could  be  distinguished,  and 
then  was  gone,  with  a  smile  flashed  over  her 
shoulder,  and  her  hireling  trying  to  keep  up 
with  her. 

"We're  all  very  proud  of  Lili's  having  a 
hired  man,"  said  Burnamy.  "We  think  it  re 
flects  credit  on  her  customers." 

March  had  begun  his  breakfast  with  the 
voracious  appetite  of  an  early-rising  invalid. 
"  What  coffee  !"  He  drew  a  long  sigh  after  the 
first  draught. 

"  It's  said  to  be  made  of  burnt  figs,"  said  Bur 
namy,  from  the  inexhaustible  advantage  of  his 
few  days'  priority  in  Carlsbad. 

"  Then  let's  have  burnt  figs  introduced  at 
home  as  soon  as  possible.  But  why  burnt  figs? 
That  seems  one  of  those  doubts  which  are  more 
difficult  than  faith." 

"It's  not  only  burnt  figs,"  said  Burnamy, 
with  amiable  superiority,  "  if  it  is  burnt  figs, 
but  it's  made  after  a  formula  invented  by  a 
consensus  of  physicians,  and  enforced  by  the 
municipality.  Every  cafe  in  Carlsbad  makes 
the  same  kind  of  coffee  and  charges  the  same 
price." 

"You  are  leaving  us  very  little  to  find  out 
for  ourselves,"  sighed  March. 

"Oh,  I  know  a  lot  more  things.  Are  you 
fond  of  fishing  ?" 

"  Not  very." 

295 


"You  can  get  a  permit  to  catch  trout  in  the 
Tepl,  but  they  send  an  official  with  you  who 
keeps  count,  and  when  you  have  had  your 
sport,  the  trout  belong  to  the  municipality  just 
as  they  did  before  you  caught  them." 

"  I  don't  see  why  that  isn't  a  good  notion  : 
the  last  thing  I  should  want  to  do  would  be  to 
eat  a  fish  that  I  had  caught,  and  that  I  was 
personally  acquainted  with.  Well,  I'm  never 
going  away  from  Carlsbad.  I  don't  wonder 
the  Germans  get  themselves  out  of  order  if  it 
brings  them  here." 

Burnamy  told  them  a  number  of  facts  he 
said  Stoller  had  got  together  about  the  place, 
and  had  given  him  to  put  in  shape.  It  was  run 
in  the  interest  of  people  who  had  got  out  of 
order,  so  that  they  would  keep  coming  to  get 
themselves  in  order  again  ;  you  could  hardly 
buy  an  unwholesome  meal  in  the  town  ;  all  the 
cooking  was  kurgemass.  He  won  such  favor 
with  his  facts  that  he  could  not  stop  in  time  ; 
he  said  to  March,  "  But  if  you  ever  should  have 
a  fancy  for  a  fish  of  your  personal  acquaint 
ance,  there's  a  restaurant  up  the  Tepl,  here, 
where  they  let  you  pick  out  your  trout  in  the 
water  ;  then  they  catch  him  and  broil  him  for 
you,  and  you  know  what  you  are  eating." 

"  Is  it  a  municipal  restaurant  ?" 

"  Semi-municipal,"  said  Burnamy,  laughing. 

"We'll  take  Mrs.  March,"  said  her  husband, 
and  in  her  gravity  Burnamy  felt  the  limitations 
296 


of  a  woman's  sense  of  humor,  which  always  de 
fine  themselves  for  men  so  unexpectedly. 

He  did  what  he  could  to  get  back  into  her 
good  graces  by  telling  her  what  he  knew  about 
distinctions  and  dignities  that  he  now  saw 
among  the  breakfasters.  The  crowd  had  grown 
denser  till  the  tables  were  set  together  in  such 
labyrinths  that  any  one  who  left  the  central 
aisle  was  lost  in  them.  The  serving-girls  ran 
more  swiftly  to  and  fro,  responding  with  a  more 
nervous  shrillness  to  the  calls  of  "  Fraulein  ! 
Fraulein  !"  that  followed  them.  The  proprie 
tor,  in  his  bare  head,  stood  like  one  paralyzed 
by  his  prosperity,  which  sent  up  all  round  him 
the  clash  of  knives  and  crockery,  and  the  con 
fusion  of  tongues.  It  was  more  than  an  hour 
before  Burnamy  caught  Lili's  eye,  and  three 
times  she  promised  to  come  and  be  paid  before 
she  came.  Then  she  said,  "  It  is  so  nice,  when 
you  stay  a  little,"  and  when  he  told  her  of  the 
poor  Fraulein  who  had  broken  the  dishes  in  her 
fall  near  them,  she  almost  wept  with  tender 
ness  ;  she  almost  winked  with  wickedness  when 
he  asked  if  the  American  princess  was  still  in 
her  place. 

"  Do  go  and  see  who  it  can  be  !"  Mrs.  March 
entreated.  ''We'll  wait  here,"  and  he  obeyed. 
"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  like  him,"  she  said,  as 
soon  as  he  was  out  of  hearing.  "  I  don't  know 
but  he's  coarse,  after  all.  It  was  very  coarse, 
his  telling  about  that  fish-restaurant ;  and  do 
297 


you  approve  of  his  knowing  so  many  people's 
tacJies  already  ?" 

"Would  it  be  any  better  later?"  he  asked  in 
turn,  leaving  the  more  dangerous  question  of 
the  fish-restaurant.  "  He  seemed  to  find  you 
interested." 

"  It's  very  different  with  us ;  we're  not 
young,"  she  urged,  only  half  seriously. 

Her  husband  laughed.  "  I  see  you  want  me 
to  defend  him.  Oh,  hello  !"  he  cried,  and  she 
saw  Burnamy  coming  toward  them  with  a 
young  lady,  who  was  nodding  to  them  from  as 
far  as  she  could  see  them.  "  This  is  the  easy 
kind  of  thing  that  would  make  you  blush  for 
the  author  if  you  found  it  in  a  novel." 


M 


XXIX 

RS.  MARCH  fairly  took  Miss  Triscoe 
in  her  arms  to  kiss  her.  "  Do  you 
know  I  felt  it  must  be  you,  all  the 
time  !  When  did  you  come  ?  Where  is  your 
father  ?  What  hotel  are  you  staying  at  ?" 

It  appeared,  while  Miss  Triscoe  was  shaking 
hands  with  March,  that  it  was  last  night,  and 
her  father  was  finishing  his  breakfast,  and  it 
was  one  of  the  hotels  on  the  hill.  On  the  way 
back  to  her  father  it  appeared  that  he  wished 
to  consult  March's  doctor  ;  not  that  there  was 
anything  the  matter. 

The  general  himself  was  not  much  softened 
by  the  reunion  with  his  fellow  -  Americans ; 
he  confided  to  them  that  his  coffee  was  poison 
ous  ;  but  he  seemed,  standing  up  with  the  Paris- 
New  York  Chronicle  folded  in  his  hand,  to  have 
drunk  it  all.  Was  March  going  off  on  his  fore 
noon  tramp?  He  believed  that  was  part  of 
299 


the  treatment,  which  was  probably  all  humbug, 
though  he  thought  of  trying  it,  now  he  was 
there.  He  was  told  the  walks  were  fine  ;  he 
looked  at  Burnamy  as  if  he  had  been  praising 
them,  and  Burnamy  said  he  had  been  wonder 
ing  if  March  would  not  like  to  try  a  mountain 
path  back  to  his  hotel ;  he  said,  not  so  sincerely, 
that  he  thought  Mrs.  March  would  like  it. 

"  I  shall  like  your  account  of  it,"  she  an 
swered.  "  But  I'll  walk  back  on  a  level,  if  you 
please." 

"Oh  yes,"  Miss  Triscoe  pleaded,  "come  with 
us  !"  She  played  a  little  comedy  of  meaning 
to  go  back  with  her  father  so  gracefully  that 
Mrs.  March  herself  could  scarcely  have  told  just 
where  the  girl's  real  purpose  of  going  with  Bur 
namy  began  to  be  evident,  or  just  how  she  man 
aged  to  make  General  Triscoe  beg  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  Mrs.  March  back  to  her 
hotel. 

March  went  with  the  young  people  across 
the  meadow  behind  the  Posthof  and  up  into 
the  forest,  which  began  at  the  base  of  the 
mountain.  At  first  they  tried  to  keep  him 
in  the  range  of  their  talk  ;  but  he  fell  behind 
more  and  more,  and  as  the  talk  narrowed  to 
themselves  it  was  less  and  less  possible  to  in 
clude  him  in  it.  When  it  began  to  concern 
their  common  appreciation  of  the  Marches, 
they  even  tried  to  get  out  of  his  hearing. 

"  They're  so  young  in  their  thoughts,"  said 
300 


Burnamy,  "  and  they  seem  as  much  interested 
in  everything  as  they  could  have  been  thirty 
years  ago.  They  belong  to  a  time  when  the 
world  was  a  good  deal  fresher  than  it  is  now  ; 
don't  you  think?  I  mean,  in  the  eighteen- 
sixties." 

"  Oh  yes.  I  can  see  that." 

"  I  don't  know  why  we  shouldn't  be  born 
older  in  each  generation  than  people  were  in 
the  last.  Perhaps  we  are,"  he  suggested. 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  mean,"  said  the  girl, 
keeping  vigorously  up  with  him  ;  she  let  him 
take  the  jacket  she  threw  off,  but  she  would 
not  have  his  hand  at  the  little  steeps  where  he 
wanted  to  give  it. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  can  quite  make  it  out  my 
self.  But  fancy  a  man  that  began  to  act  at 
twenty,  quite  unconsciously  of  course,  from 
the  past  experience  of  the  whole  race — 

"  He  would  be  rather  a  dreadful  person, 
wouldn't  he?" 

"  Rather  monstrous,  yes,"  he  owned,  with  a 
laugh.  "But  that's  where  the  psychological 
interest  would  come  in." 

As  if  she  did  not  feel  the  notion  quite  pleas 
ant  she  turned  from  it.  "  I  suppose  you've 
been  writing  all  sorts  of  things  since  you  came 
here." 

"  Well,  it  hasn't  been  such  a  great  while  as 
it's  seemed,  and  I've  had  Mr.  Stoller's  psycho 
logical  interests  to  look  after." 
301 


"  Oh  yes  !     Do  you  like  him  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  He's  a  lump  of  honest  sel 
fishness.  He  isn't  bad.  You  know  where  to 
have  him.  He's  simple,  too." 

"  You  mean,  like  Mr.  March  ?" 

"  I  didn't  mean  that ;  but  why  not  ?  They're 
not  of  the  same  generation,  but  Stoller  isn't 
modern." 

"  I'm  very  curious  to  see  him,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  introduce  him  ?" 

"You  can  introduce  him  to  papa." 

They  stopped  and  looked  across  the  curve 
of  the  mountain  path,  down  at  March,  who 
had  sunk  on  a  way-side  seat,  and  was  mopping 
his  forehead.  He  saw  them,  and  called  up  : 
"  Don't  wait  for  me.  I'll  join  you,  gradually." 

"  I  don't  want  to  lose  you,"  Burnamy  called 
back,  but  he  kept  on  with  Miss  Triscoe.  "  I 
want  to  get  in  the  Hirschensprung,"  he  ex 
plained.  "  It's  the  cliff  where  a  hunted  deer 
leaped  down  several  hundred  feet  to  get  away 
from  an  emperor  who  was  after  him." 

"  Oh  yes.     They  have  them  everywhere." 

"  Do  they  ?  Well,  anyway,  there's  a  noble 
view  up  there." 

There  was  no  view  on  the  way  up.  The 
Germans'  notion  of  a  woodland  is  everywhere 
that  of  a  dense  forest  such  as  their  barbarous 
tribes  primevally  herded  in.  It  means  the 
close-set  stems  of  trees,  with  their  tops  inter 
woven  in  a  roof  of  boughs  and  leaves  so  dense- 
302 


THE   HIRSCHENSPRUNG 


ly  that  you  may  walk  dry  through  it  almost  as 
long  as  a  German  shower  lasts.  When  the 
sun  shines  there  is  a  pleasant  greenish  light  in 
the  aisles,  shot  here  and  there  with  the  gold 
that  trickles  through.  There  is  nothing  of 
the  accident  of  an  American  wood  in  these 
forests,  which  have  been  watched  and  weeded 
by  man  ever  since  they  burst  the  soil.  They 
remain  nurseries,  but  they  have  the  charm 
which  no  human  care  can  alienate.  The  smell 
of  their  bark  and  their  leaves,  and  of  the  moist 
flowerless  earth  about  their  roots,  came  to 
March  where  he  sat  rich  with  the  memories  of 
his  country-bred  youth,  and  drugged  all  con 
sciousness  of  his  long  life  in  cities  since,  and 
made  him  a  part  of  nature,  with  dulled  inter 
ests  and  dimmed  perspectives,  so  that  for  the 
moment  he  had  the  enjoyment  of  an  absolute 
present.  There  was  no  wild  life  to  penetrate 
his  isolation  ;  no  birds,  not  a  squirrel,  not  an 
insect ;  an  old  man  who  had  bidden  him  good- 
morning,  as  he  came  up,  kept  fumbling  at  the 
path  with  his  hoe,  and  was  less  intrusive  than 
if  he  had  not  been  there. 

March  thought  of  the  impassioned  existence 
of  these  young  people  playing  the  inevitable 
comedy  of  hide  and  seek  which  the  youth  of 
the  race  has  played  from  the  beginning  of  time. 
The  other  invalids  who  haunted  the  forest,  and 
passed  up  and  down  before  him  in  fulfilment  of 
their  several  prescriptions,  had  a  thin  unreality 
u  305 


in  spite  of  the  physical  bulk  that  prevailed 
among  them,  and  they  heightened  the  relief  that 
the  forest-spirit  brought  him  from  the  strenu 
ous  contact  of  that  young  drama.  He  had  been 
almost  painfully  aware  that  the  persons  in  it 
had  met,  however  little  they  knew  it,  with  an 
eagerness  intensified  by  their  brief  separation, 
and  he  fancied  it  was  the  girl  who  had  uncon 
sciously  operated  their  reunion  in  response  to 
the  young  man's  longing,  her  will  making  it 
self  electrically  felt  through  space  by  that  sort 
of  wireless  telegraphy  which  love  has  long  em 
ployed,  and  science  has  just  begun  to  imagine. 

He  would  have  been  willing  that  they  should 
get  home  alone,  but  he  knew  that  his  wife  would 
require  an  account  of  them  from  him,  and 
though  he  could  have  invented  something  of 
the  kind,  if  it  came  to  the  worst,  he  was  aware 
that  it  would  not  do  for  him  to  arrive  without 
them.  The  thought  goaded  him  from  his  seat, 
and  he  joined  the  upward  procession  of  his  fel 
low-sick,  as  it  met  another  procession  strag 
gling  downward  ;  the  ways  branched  in  all 
directions,  with  people  on  them  everywhere, 
bent  upon  building  up  in  a  month  the  health 
which  they  would  spend  the  rest  of  the  year  in 
demolishing. 

He  came  upon  his  charges  unexpectedly  at 

a  turn  of  the  path,  and  Miss  Triscoe  told  him 

that  he  ought  to  have  been  with  them  for  the 

view  from  the  Hirschensprung.     It  was  mag- 

306 


nificent,  she  said,  and  she  made  Burnamy  cor 
roborate  her  praise  of  it,  and  agree  with  her 
that  it  was  worth  the  climb  a  thousand  times  ; 
he  modestly  accepted  the  credit  she  appeared 
willing  to  give  him,  of  inventing  the  Hirschen- 
sprung. 


XXX 


BETWEEN  his  work  for  Stoller  and  what 
sometimes  seemed  the  obstructiveness 
of  General  Triscoe,  Burnamy  was  not 
very  much  with  Miss  Triscoe.  He  was  not  de 
vout,  but  he  went  every  Sunday  to  the  pretty 
English  church  on  the  hill,  where  he  contrib 
uted  beyond  his  means  to  the  support  of  the 
English  clergy  on  the  Continent,  for  the  sake 
of  looking  at  her  back  hair  during  the  service, 
and  losing  himself  in  the  graceful  lines  which 
defined  the  girl's  figure  from  the  slant  of  her 
flowery  hat  to  the  point  where  the  pew-top 
crossed  her  elastic  waist.  One  happy  morning 
the  general  did  not  come  to  church,  and  he  had 
the  fortune  to  walk  home  with  her  to  her  pen 
sion,  where  she  lingered  with  him  a  moment, 
and  almost  made  him  believe  she  might  be 
going  to  ask  him  to  come  in. 

The  next  evening,  when  he  was  sauntering 
308 


THE   ENGLISH    CHURCH 


down  the  row  of  glittering  shops  beside  the 
Tepl,  with  Mrs.  March,  they  overtook  the  gen 
eral  and  his  daughter  at  a  place  where  the  girl 
was  admiring  some  stork-scissors  in  the  window ; 
she  said  she  wished  she  were  still  little,  so  that 
she  could  get  them.  They  walked  home  with 
the  Triscoes,  and  then  he  hurried  Mrs.  March 
back  to  the  shop.  The  man  had  already  put 
up  his  shutters,  and  was  just  closing  his  door, 
but  Burnamy  pushed  in,  and  asked  to  look  at 
the  stork-scissors  they  had  seen  in  the  window. 
The  gas  was  out,  and  the  shopman  lighted  a 
very  dim  candle,  to  show  them. 

"  I  knew  you  wanted  to  get  them  for  her, 
after  what  she  said,  Mrs.  March,"  he  laughed 
nervously,  "  and  you  must  let  me  lend  you  the 
money." 

"  Why.  of  course  !"  she  answered,  joyfully 
humoring  his  feint.  "  Shall  I  put  my  card  in 
for  the  man  to  send  home  to  her  with  them?" 

"Well — no.  No.  Not  your  card — exactly. 
Or,  yes  !  Yes,  you  must,  I  suppose." 

They  made  the  hushing  street  gay  with  their 
laughter  ;  the  next  evening  Miss  Triscoe  came 
upon  the  Marches  and  Burnamy  where  they 
sat  after  supper  listening  to  the  concert  at 
Pupp's,  and  thanked  Mrs.  March  for  the  scis 
sors.  Then  she  and  Burnamy  had  their  laugh 
again,  and  Miss  Triscoe  joined  them,  to  her 
father's  frowning  mystification.  He  stared 
round  for  a  table  ;  they  were  all  taken,  and  he 


could  not  refuse  the  interest  Burnamy  made 
with  the  waiters  to  bring  them  one  and  crowd 
it  in.  He  had  to  ask  him  to  sup  with  them, 
and  Burnamy  sat  down  and  heard  the  concert 
through  beside  Miss  Triscoe. 

"  What  is  so  tremendously  amusing  in  a  pair 
of  stork-scissors?"  March  demanded,  when  his 
wife  and  he  were  alone. 

"  Why,  I  was  wanting  to  tell  you,  dearest," 
she  began,  in  a  tone  which  he  felt  to  be 
wheedling,  and  she  told  the  story  of  the  scis 
sors. 

"  Look  here,  my  dear  !  Didn't  you  promise 
to  let  this  love-affair  alone  ?" 

"That  was  on  the  ship.  And  besides,  what 
would  you  have  done,  I  should  like  to  know? 
Would  you  have  refused  to  let  him  buy  them 
for  her?"  She  added,  carelessly  :  "He  wants 
us  to  go  to  the  Kurhaus  ball  with  him." 

"Oh,  doeste  !" 

"  Yes.  He  says  he  knows  that  she  can  get 
her  father  to  let  her  go  if  we  will  chaperon 
them.  And  I  promised  that  you  would." 

"  That  /  would  ?" 

"It  will  do  just  as  well  if  you  go.  And  it 
will  be  very  amusing  ;  you  can  see  something 
of  Carlsbad  society." 

"But    I'm   not    going!"    he    declared.      "It 

would  interfere  with  my  cure.     The  sitting  up 

late  would  be  bad  enough,  but  I  should  get 

very  hungry,  and  I  should  eat  potato  salad  and 

312 


sausages,  and  drink  beer,  and  do  all  sorts  of  un 
wholesome  things." 

"  Nonsense  !  The  refreshments  will  be  kur- 
gemass,  of  course." 

"  You  can  go  yourself,"  he  said. 

A  ball  is  not  the  same  thing  for  a  woman 
after  fifty  as  it  is  before  twenty,  but  still  it  has 
claims  upon  the  imagination,  and  the  novel 
circumstance  of  a  ball  in  the  Kurhaus  in  Carls 
bad  enhanced  these  for  Mrs.  March.  It  was 
the  annual  reunion  which  is  given  by  munic 
ipal  authority  in  the  large  hall  above  the 
bath-rooms  ;  it  is  frequented  with  safety  and 
pleasure  by  curious  strangers,  and  now,  upon 
reflection,  it  began  to  have  for  Mrs.  March  the 
charm  of  duty  ;  she  believed  that  she  could 
finally  have  made  March  go  in  her  place,  but 
she  felt  that  she  ought  really  to  go  in  his,  and 
save  him  from  the  late  hours  and  the  late 
supper. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  she  said,  at  last,  "  I  will 
go." 

It  appeared  that  any  civil  person  might  go 
to  the  reunion  who  chose  to  pay  two  florins 
and  a  half.  There  must  have  been  some  sort 
of  restriction,  and  the  ladies  of  Burnamy's 
party  went  with  a  good  deal  of  amused  curi 
osity  to  see  what  the  distinctions  were  ;  but 
they  saw  none  unless  it  was  in  the  advantages 
which  the  military  had.  The  long  hall  over 
the  bath-rooms  shaped  itself  into  a  space  for 
313 


the  dancing  at  one  end,  and  all  the  rest  of  it 
was  filled  with  tables,  which  at  half  past  eight 
were  crowded  with  people,  eating,  drinking, 
and  smoking.  The  military  enjoyed  the  mo 
nopoly  of  a  table  next  the  rail  dividing  the 
dancing  from  the  dining  space.  There  the 
tight-laced  Herr  Hauptmanns  and  Herr  Lieu 
tenants  sat  at  their  sausage  and  beer  and 
cigars  in  the  intervals  of  the  waltzes,  and 
strengthened  themselves  for  a  foray  among 
the  gracious  Fraus  and  Frauleinson  the  bench 
es  lining  three  sides  of  the  dancing  space. 
From  the  gallery  above  many  civilian  specta 
tors  looked  down  upon  the  gayety,  and  the 
dress-coats  of  a  few  citizens  figured  among  the 
uniforms. 

As  the  evening  wore  on  some  ladies  of  great 
er  fashion  found  their  way  to  the  dancing-floor, 
and  towards  ten  o'clock  it  became  rather 
crowded.  A  party  of  American  girls  showed 
their  Paris  dresses  in  the  transatlantic  versions 
of  the  waltz.  At  first  they  danced  with  the 
young  men  who  came  with  them  ;  but  after  a 
while  they  yielded  to  the  custom  of  the  place, 
and  danced  with  any  of  the  officers  who  asked 
them. 

"  I  know  it's  the  custom,"  said  Mrs.  March 
to  Miss  Triscoe,  who  was  at  her  side  in  one  of 
the  waltzes  she  had  decided  to  sit  out,  so  as  not 
to  be  dancing  all  the  time  with  Burnamy,  "but 
I  never  can  like  it  without  an  introduction." 


"  No,"  said  the  girl,  with  the  air  of  putting 
temptation  decidedly  away,  "I  don't  believe 
papa  would,  either." 

A  young  officer  came  up,  and  drooped  in 
mute  supplication  before  her.  She  glanced 
at  Mrs.  March,  who  turned  her  face  away  ; 
and  she  excused  herself  Avith  the  pretence  that 
she  had  promised  the  dance,  and  by  good  fort 
une,  Burnamy,  who  had  been  unscrupulously 
waltzing  with  a  lady  he  did  not  know,  came  up 
at  the  moment.  She  rose  and  put  her  hand 
on  his  arm,  and  they  both  bowed  to  the  officer 
before  they  whirled  away.  The  officer  looked 
after  them  with  amiable  admiration  ;  then  he 
turned  to  Mrs.  March  with  a  light  of  banter  in 
his  friendly  eyes,  and  was  unmistakably  asking 
her  to  dance.  She  liked  his  ironical  daring, 
she  liked  it  so  much  that  she  forgot  her  objec 
tion  to  partners  without  introductions ;  she 
forgot  her  fifty-odd  years ;  she  forgot  that  she 
was  a  mother  of  grown  children  and  even  a 
mother-in-law  ;  she  remembered  only  the  step 
of  her  out-dated  waltz.  It  seemed  to  be  mod 
ern  enough  for  the  cheerful  young  officer,  and 
they  were  suddenly  revolving  with  the  rest. 
A  tide  of  long-forgotten  girlhood  welled  up  in 
her  heart,  and  she  laughed  as  she  floated  off  on 
it  past  the  astonished  eyes  of  Miss  Triscoe  and 
Burnamy.  She  saw  them  falter,  as  if  they  had 
lost  their  step  in  their  astonishment ;  then  they 
seemed  both  to  vanish,  and  her  partner  had 
315 


released  her,  and  was  helping  Miss  Triscoe  up 
from  the  floor  ;  Burnamy  was  brushing  the  dust 
from  his  knees,  and  the  citizen  who  had  bowled 
them  over  was  boisterously  apologizing  and 
incessantly  bowing. 

"  Oh,  are  you  hurt  ?"  Mrs.  March  implored. 
"  I'm  sure  you  must  be  killed  ;  and  I  did  it  !  I 
don't  know  what  I  was  thinking  of  !" 

The  girl  laughed.     "  I'm  not  hurt  a  bit !" 

They  had  one  impulse  to  escape  from  the 
place,  and  from  the  sympathy  and  congratula 
tion.  In  the  dressing-room  she  declared  again 
that  she  was  all  right.  "  How  beautifully  you 
waltz,  Mrs.  March  !"  she  said,  and  she  laughed 
again,  and  would  not  agree  with  her  that  she 
had  been  ridiculous.  "  But  I'm  glad  those 
American  girls  didn't  see  me.  And  I  can't  be 
too  thankful  papa  didn't  come  !" 

Mrs.  March's  heart  sank  at  the  thought  of 
what  General  Triscoe  would  think  of  her  when 
he  knew  everything.  "You  must  tell  him  I 
did  it.  I  can  never  lift  up  my  head  !" 

"  No,  I  shall  not.  No  one  did  it,"  said  the 
girl,  magnanimously.  She  looked  down  side 
long  at  her  draperies.  "  I  was  so  afraid  I  had 
torn  my  dress  !  I  certainly  heard  something 
rip." 

It  was  one  of  the  skirts  of  Burnamy's  coat, 
which  he  had  caught  into  his  hand  and  held  in 
place  till  he  could  escape  to  the  men's  dressing- 
room,  where  he  had  it  pinned  up  so  skilfully 
316 


that  the  damage  was  not  suspected  by  the 
ladies.  He  had  banged  his  knee  abominably 
too  ;  but  they  did  not  suspect  that  either,  as 
he  limped  home  on  the  air  beside  them,  first  to 
Miss  Triscoe's  pension,  and  then  to  Mrs.  March's 
hotel. 

It  was  quite  eleven  o'clock,  which  at  Carlsbad 
is  as  late  as  three  in  the  morning  anywhere 
else,  when  she  let  herself  into  her  room.  She 
decided  not  to  tell  her  husband,  then  ;  and  even 
at  breakfast,  which  they  had  at  the  Posthof,  she 
had  not  got  to  her  confession,  though  she  had 
told  him  everything  else  about  the  ball,  when 
the  young  officer  with  whom  she  had  danced 
passed  between  the  tables  near  her.  He  caught 
her  eye  and  bowed  with  a  smile  of  so  much 
meaning  that  March  asked,  "  Who's  your  pretty 
young  friend  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  !  "  she  answered,  carelessly.  "That 
was  one  of  the  officers  at  the  ball,"  and  she 
laughed. 

"  You  seem  to  be  in  the  joke  too,"  he  said. 
"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  something.  I'll  tell  you  sometime.  Or 
perhaps  you'll  find  out." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  won't  let  me  wait." 

"No,  I  won't,"  and  now  she  told  him.  She 
had  expected  teasing,  ridicule,  sarcasm,  any 
thing  but  the  psychological  interest  mixed 
with  a  sort  of  retrospective  tenderness  which 
he  showed.  "  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  you  ;  I 


always  thought  you  danced  well."  He  added  : 
"  It  seems  that  you  need  a  chaperon  too." 

The  next  morning,  after  March  and  General 
Triscoe  had  started  off  upon  one  of  their  hill 
climbs,  the  young  people  made  her  go  with 
them  for  a  walk  up  the  Tepl,  as  far  as  the  cafe 
of  the  Freundschaftsaal.  In  the  grounds  an 
artist  in  silhouettes  was  cutting  out  the  like 
nesses  of  people  who  supposed  themselves  to 
have  profiles,  and  they  begged  Mrs.  March  to 
sit  for  hers.  It  was  so  good  that  she  insisted 
on  Miss  Triscoe's  sitting  in  turn,  and  then  Bur- 
namy.  Then  he  had  the  inspiration  to  propose 
that  they  should  all  three  sit  together,  and  it 
appeared  that  such  a  group  was  within  the  scope 
of  the  silhouettist's  art  ;  he  posed  them  in  his 
little  bower,  and  while  he  was  mounting  the 
picture  they  took  turns,  at  five  kreutzers  each, 
in  listening  to  American  tunes  played  by  his 
Edison  phonograph. 

Mrs.  March  felt  that  all  this  was  weakening 
her  moral  fibre  ;  but  she  tried  to  draw  the  line 
at  letting  Burnamy  keep  the  group.  "  Why 
not  ?"  he  pleaded. 

"  You  oughtn't  to  ask,"  she  returned.  "  You've 
no  business  to  have  Miss  Triscoe's  picture,  if 
you  must  know." 

"  But  you're  there  to  chaperon  us,"  he  per 
sisted. 

He  began  to  laugh,  and  they  all  laughed 
when  she  said, "In  a  silhouette  you  need  a  chap- 
318 


eron  who  doesn't  lose  her  head."  But  it  seemed 
useless  to  hold  out  after  that,  and  she  heard 
herself  asking,  "  Shall  we  let  him  keep  it,  Miss 
Triscoe  ?" 

Burnamy  went  off  to  his  work  with  Stoller, 
carrying  the  silhouette  with  him,  and  she  kept 
on  with  Miss  Triscoe  to  her  hotel.  In  turning 
from  the  gate  after  she  parted  with  the  girl  she 
found  herself  confronted  with  Mrs.  Adding 
and  Rose.  The  ladies  exclaimed  at  each  other 
in  an  astonishment  from  which  they  had  to 
recover  before  they  could  begin  to  talk,  but 
from  the  first  moment  Mrs.  March  perceived 
that  Mrs.  Adding  had  something  to  say.  The 
more  freely  to  say  it  she  asked  Mrs.  March  into 
her  hotel,  which  was  in  the  same  street  with 
the  pension  of  the  Triscoes,  and  she  let  her 
boy  go  off  about  the  exploration  of  Carlsbad  ; 
he  promised  to  be  back  in  an  hour. 

"  Well,  now  what  scrape  are  you  in  ?"  March 
asked,  when  his  wife  came  home,  and  began  to 
put  off  her  things,  with  signs  of  excitement 
which  he  could  not  fail  to  note.  He  was  lying 
down  after  a  long  tramp,  and  he  seemed  very 
comfortable. 

His  question  suggested  something  of  ante 
rior  import,  and  she  told  him  about  the  silhou 
ettes,  and  the  advantage  the  young  people 
had  taken  of  their  power  over  her  through 
their  knowledge  of  her  foolish  behavior  at  the 
ball. 

319 


He  said,  lazily  :  "They  seem  to  be  working 
you  for  all  you're  worth.  Is  that  it  ?" 

"  No  ;  there  is  something  worse.  Some 
thing's  happened  which  throws  all  of  that 
quite  in  the  shade.  Mrs.  Adding  is  here." 

"  Mrs.  Adding  ?"  repeated  March,  with  a 
dimness  for  names  which  his  wife  would  not 
allow  was  growing  on  him. 

"  Don't  be  stupid,  dear  !  Mrs.  Adding,  who 
sat  opposite  Mr.  Kenby  on  the  Nonnnbia. 
The  mother  of  the  nice  boy." 

"  Oh  yes  !     Well,  that's  good  !" 

"  No,  it  isn't !  Don't  say  such  a  thing — till 
you  know  !"  she  cried,  with  a  certain  shrillness 
which  warned  him  of  an  unfathomed  serious 
ness  in  the  fact.  He  sat  up  as  if  better  to  con 
front  the  mystery.  "  I  have  been  at  her  hotel, 
and  she  has  been  telling  me  that  she's  just 
come  from  Berlin,  and  that  Mr.  Kenby's  been 
there,  and —  Now  I  won't  have  you  making 
a  joke  of  it,  or  breaking  out  about  it,  as  if  it 
were  not  a  thing  to  be  looked  for  ;  though  of 
course  with  the  others  on  our  hands  you're 
not  to  blame  for  not  thinking  of  it.  But  you 
can  see  yourself  that  she's  young  and  good- 
looking.  She  did  speak  beautifully  of  her  son, 
and  if  it  were  not  for  him,  I  don't  believe  she 
would  hesitate — " 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  what  are  you  driving 
at  ?"  March  broke  in,  and  she  answered  him  as 
vehemently  : 

320 


"  He's  asked  her  to  marry  him  !" 

"  Kenby  ?     Mrs.  Adding  ?" 

"  Yes  !" 

"  Well,  now,  Isabel,  this  won't  do  !  They 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  themselves.  With 
that  morbid,  delicate  boy  !  It's  shocking — " 

"  Will  you  listen  ?  Or  do  you  want  me  to 
stop?"  He  arrested  himself  at  her  threat,  and 
she  resumed,  after  giving  her  contempt  of  his 
turbulence  time  to  sink  in,  "  She  refused  him, 
of  course — 

"  Oh,  all  right,  then  !" 

"  You  take  it  in  such  a  way  that  I've  a  great 
mind  not  to  tell  you  anything  more  about  it." 

"  I  know  you  have,"  said  March,  stretching 
himself  out  again  ;  "  but  you'll  do  it  all  the 
same.  You'd  have  been  awfully  disappointed 
if  I  had  been  calm  and  collected." 

"  She  refused  him,"  Mrs.  March  began  again, 
"  although  she  respects  him,  because  she  feels 
that  she  ought  to  devote  herself  to  her  son. 
Of  course  she's  very  young,  yet ;  she  was  mar 
ried  when  she  was  only  nineteen  to  a  man 
twice  her  age,  and  she's  not  thirty-five  yet.  I 
don't  think  she  ever  cared  much  for  her  hus 
band  ;  and  she  wants  you  to  find  out  some 
thing  about  him." 

"  I  never  heard  of  him.     I — 

Mrs.  March  made  a  "  tchck  !"  that  would 
have  recalled  the  most  consequent  of  men 
from  the  most  logical  and  coherent  interpre- 
x  321 


tation  to  the  true  intent  of  her  words.  He 
perceived  his  mistake,  and  said,  resolutely : 
"  Well,  I  won't  do  it.  If  she's  refused  him, 
that's  the  end  of  it ;  she  needn't  know  any 
thing  about  him,  and  she  has  no  right  to." 

"  Now  I  think  differently,"  said  Mrs.  March, 
with  an  inductive  air.  "  Of  course  she  has 
to  know  about  him,  now"  She  stopped,  and 
March  turned  his  head  and  looked  expectantly 
at  her.  "  He  said  he  would  not  consider  her 
answer  final,  but  would  hope  to  see  her  again 
and —  She's  afraid  he  may  follow  her ;  he 
says  he's  going  to  write  to  her  ;  and —  What 
are  you  looking  at  me  so  for  ?" 

"  Is  he  coming  here  ?" 

"  Am  I  to  blame  if  he  is  ?  Yes — he  said  he 
would  come." 

March  burst  into  a  laugh.  "  Well,  they 
haven't  been  beating  about  the  bush  !  When 
I  think  how  Miss  Triscoe  has  been  pursuing 
Burnamy  from  the  first  moment  she  set  eyes 
on  him,  with  the  settled  belief  that  she  was 
running  from  him,  and  he  imagines  that  he 
has  been  boldly  following  her  without  the  least 
hope  from  her,  I  can't  help  admiring  the  sim 
ple  directness  of  these  elders." 

"  And  if  Kenby  wants  to  talk  with  you,  what 
will  you  say  ?"  she  cut  in,  eagerly. 

"  I'll  say  I  don't  like  the  subject.  What  am 
I  in  Carlsbad  for  ?  I  came  for  the  cure,  and 
I'm  spending  time  and  money  on  it.  I  might 
322 


as  well  go  and  take  my  three  cups  of  Felsen- 
quelle  on  a  full  stomach  as  listen  to  Kenby." 

"  I  know  it's  bad  for  you,  and  I  wish  we  had 
never  seen  those  people,"  said  Mrs.  March. 
"  I  don't  believe  he'll  want  to  talk  with  you  ; 
but  if — " 

"  Is  Mrs.  Adding  in  this  hotel  ?  I'm  not  go 
ing  to  have  them  round  in  my  bread-trough  !" 

"  She  isn't.  She's  at  one  of  the  hotels  on  the 
hill." 

"  Very  well,  let  her  stay  there,  then.  They 
can  manage  their  love-affairs  in  their  own  way. 
The  only  one  I  care  the  least  for  is  that  sensi 
tive  boy." 

"  Yes,  it  is  forlorn  for  him.  But  he  likes  Mr. 
Kenby,  and —  No,  it's  horrid,  and  you  can't 
make  it  anything  else  !" 

"Well,  I'm  not  trying  to."  He  turned  his 
face  away.  "  I  must  get  my  nap.  now."  After 
she  thought  he  must  have  fallen  asleep,  he 
said,  "  The  first  thing  you  know,  those  old  Elt- 
wins  will  be  coming  round  and  telling  us  that 
they're  going  to  get  divorced."  Then  he  really 
slept. 


XXXI 


THE  mid -day  dinner  at  Pupp's  was  the 
time  to  see  the  Carlsbad  world,  and  the 
Marches  had  the  habit  of  sitting  long  at 
table  to  watch  it. 

There  was  one  family  in  whom  they  fancied 
a  sort  of  literary  quality,  as  if  they  had  come 
out  of  some  pleasant  German  story,  but  they 
never  knew  anything  about  them.  The  father 
by  his  dress  must  have  been  a  Protestant 
clergyman ;  the  mother  had  been  a  beauty 
and  was  still  very  handsome  ;  the  daughter 
was  good  -  looking,  and  of  a  good  -  breeding 
which  was  both  girlish  and  ladylike.  They 
commended  themselves  by  always  taking  the 
table  d'hote  dinner,  as  the  Marches  did,  and 
eating  through  from  the  soup  and  the  rank 
fresh-water  fish  to  the  sweet,  upon  the  same 
principle  :  the  husband  ate  all  the  compote 
and  gave  the  others  his  dessert,  which  was 
324 


not  good  for  him.  A  young  girl  of  a  differ 
ent  fascination  remained  as  much  a  mystery. 
She  was  small  and  of  an  extreme  tenuity, 
which  became  more  bewildering  as  she  ad 
vanced  through  her  meal,  especially  at  sup 
per,  which  she  made  of  a  long  cucumber 
pickle,  a  Frankfort  sausage  of  twice  the 
pickle's  length,  and  a  towering  goblet  of  /" 
beer  ;  in  her  lap  she  held  a  shivering  little 
hound  ;  she  was  in  the  decorous  keeping  of 
an  elderly  maid,  and  had  every  effect  of  be 
ing  a  gracious  Fraulein.  A  curious  contrast 
to  her  Teutonic  voracity  was  the  temperance 
of  a  young  Latin  swell,  imaginably  from 
Trieste,  who  sat  long  over  his  small  coffee 
and  cigarette,  and  tranquilly  mused  upon  the 
pages  of  an  Italian  newspaper.  At  another 
table  there  was  a  very  noisy  lady,  short  and 
fat,  in  flowing  draperies  of  white,  who  com 
manded  a  sallow  family  of  South-Americans, 
and  loudly  harangued  them  in  South-Ameri 
can  Spanish  ;  she  flared  out,  a  spot  of  vivid 
light,  in  a  picture  which  nowhere  lacked 
strong  effects  ;  and  in  her  background  lurk 
ed  a  mysterious  black  face  and  figure,  iron 
ically  subservient  to  the  old  man,  the  mild 
boy,  and  the  pretty  young  girl  in  the  middle 
distance  of  the  family  group. 

Amidst  the  shows  of  a  hardened  worldliness 
there  were  touching  glimpses  of  domesticity 
and  heart :    a  young  bride  fed  her   husband 
325 


soup  from  her  own  plate  with  her  spoon,  un 
abashed  by  the  publicity  ;  a  mother  and  her 
two  pretty  daughters  hung  about  a  handsome 
officer,  who  must  have  been  newly  betrothed 
to  one  of  the  girls ;  and  the  whole  family 
showed  a  helpless  fondness  for  him,  which  he 
did  not  despise  though  he  held  it  in  check;  the 
girls  dressed  alike,  and  seemed  to  have  for 
their  whole  change  of  costume  a  difference 
from  time  to  time  in  the  color  of  their  sleeves. 
The  Marches  believed  they  had  seen  the  growth 
of  the  romance  which  had  eventuated  so  hap 
pily  ;  and  they  saw  other  romances  which  did 
not  in  any  wise  eventuate.  Carlsbad  was  evi 
dently  one  of  the  great  marriage  marts  of 
middle  Europe,  where  mothers  brought  their 
daughters  to  be  admired,  and  everywhere  the 
flower  of  life  was  blooming  for  the  hand  of 
love.  It  blew  by  on  all  the  promenades  in 
dresses  and  hats  as  pretty  as  they  could  be 
bought  or  imagined ;  but  it  was  chiefly  at 
Pupp's  that  it  flourished.  For  the  most  part 
it  seemed  to  flourish  in  vain,  and  to  be  des 
tined  to  be  put  by  for  another  season  to  dream, 
bulblike,  of  the  coming  summer  in  the  quiet  of 
Moldavain  and  Transylvanian  homes. 

Perhaps  it  was  oftener  of  fortunate  effect 
than  the  spectators  knew  ;  but  for  their  own 
pleasure  they  would  not  have  had  their  pang 
for  it  less  ;  and  March  objected  to  having  a 
more  explicit  demand  upon  his  sympathy. 
326 


"We  could  have  managed,"  he  said,  at  the 
close  of  their  dinner,  as  he  looked  compassion 
ately  round  upon  the  parterre  of  young  girls — 
"  we  could  have  managed  with  Burnamy  and 
Miss  Triscoe  ;  but  to  have  Mrs.  Adding  and 
Kenby  launched  upon  us  is  too  much.  Of  course 
I  like  Kenby,  and  if  the  widow  alone  were  con 
cerned  I  would  give  him  my  blessing  :  a  wife 
more  or  a  widow  less  is  not  going  to  disturb 
the  equilibrium  of  the  universe  ;  but — "  He 
stopped,  and  then  he  went  on.  "  Men  and 
women  are  well  enough.  They  complement 
each  other  very  agreeably,  and  they  have  very 
good  times  together.  But  why  should  they 
get  in  love  ?  It  is  sure  to  make  them  uncom 
fortable  to  themselves  and  annoying  to  others." 
He  broke  off,  and  stared  about  him.  "  My 
dear,  this  is  really  charming — almost  as  charm 
ing  as  the  Posthof."  The  crowd  spread  from 
the  open  vestibule  of  the  hotel  and  the  shelter 
of  its  branching  pavilion  roofs  until  it  was 
dimmed  in  the  obscurity  of  the  low  grove 
across  the  way  in  an  ultimate  depth  where 
the  musicians  were  giving  the  afternoon  con 
cert.  Between  its  two  stationary  divisions 
moved  a  current  of  promenaders,  with  some 
such  effect  as  if  the  colors  of  a  lovely  garden 
should  have  liquefied  and  flowed  in  mingled 
rose  and  lilac,  pink  and  yellow,  and  white  and 
orange,  and  all  the  middle  tints  of  modern 
millinery.  Above  on  one  side  were  the  agree- 
327 


able  bulks  of  architecture,  in  the  buff  and  gray 
of  Carlsbad  ;  and  far  beyond  on  the  other  were 
the  upland  slopes,  with  villas  and  long  curves 
of  country  roads,  belted  in  with  miles  of  wall. 
"  It  would  be  about  as  offensive  to  have  a  love- 
interest  that  one  personally  knew  about  in 
truded  here,"  he  said,  "as  to  have  a  two-span 
ner  carriage  driven  through  the  crowd.  It 
ought  to  be  forbidden  by  the  municipality."' 

Mrs.  March  listened  with  her  ears,  but  not 
her  eyes,  and  she  answered  :  "  See  that  hand 
some  young  Greek  priest  !  Isn't  he  an  archi 
mandrite  ?  The  portier  said  he  was." 

"  Then  let  him  pass  for  an  archimandrite. 
— Now,"  he  recurred  to  his  grievance  again, 
dreamily,  "  I've  got  to  take  Papa  Triscoe  in 
hand,  and  poison  his  mind  against  Burnamy, 
and  I  shall  have  to  instil  a  few  drops  of  ven 
omous  suspicion  against  Kenby  into  the  heart 
of  poor  little  Rose  Adding.  Oh,"  he  broke  out, 
"  they  will  spoil  everything.  They'll  be  with 
us  morning,  noon,  and  night,"  and  he  went  on 
to  work  the  joke  of  repining  at  his  lot.  The 
worst  thing,  he  said,  would  be  the  lovers'  pre 
tence  of  being  interested  in  something  besides 
themselves,  which  they  were  no  more  capable 
of  than  so  many  lunatics.  How  could  they 
care  for  pretty  girls  playing  tennis  on  an  up 
land  level,  in  the  waning  afternoon  ?  Or  a 
cartful  of  peasant  women  stopping  to  cross 
themselves  at  a  way-side  shrine  ?  Or  a  whist- 
328 


A    WAYSIDE    SHRINE 


ling  boy  with  holes  in  his  trousers  pausing 
from  some  way-side  raspberries  to  touch  his 
hat  and  say  good-morning  ?  Or  those  prepos 
terous  maidens  sprinkling  linen  on  the  grass 
from  watering-pots  while  the  skies  were  full  of 
rain  ?  Or  that  blacksmith  shop  where  Peter 
the  Great  made  a  horseshoe?  Or  the  monu 
ment  of  the  young  warrior-poet  Koerner,  with 
a  gentle-looking  girl  and  her  mother  reading 
and  knitting  on  a  bench  before  it  ?  These 
simple  pleasures  sufficed  them,  but  what  could 
lovers  really  care  for  them  ?  A  peasant  girl 
flung  down  on  the  grassy  roadside,  fast  asleep, 
while  her  yoke-fellow,  the  gray  old  dog,  lay  in 
his  harness  near  her  with  one  drowsy  eye  half 
open  for  her  and  the  other  for  the  contents  of 
their  cart ;  a  boy  chasing  a  red  squirrel  in  the 
old  upper  town  beyond  the  Tepl,  and  enlisting 
the  interest  of  all  the  neighbors  ;  the  negro 
door-keeper  at  the  Golden  Shield  who  ought  to 
have  spoken  our  Southern  English,  but  who 
spoke  bad  German  and  was  from  Cairo  ;  the 
sweet  afternoon  stillness  in  the  woods  ;  the 
good  German  mothers  crocheting  at  the  Post- 
hof  concerts  :  Burnamy  as  a  young  poet  might 
have  felt  the  precious  quality  of  these  things, 
if  his  senses  had  not  been  holden  by  Miss 
Triscoe  ;  and  she  might  have  felt  it  if  only  he 
had  done  so.  But  as  it  was  it  would  be  lost 
upon  their  preoccupation  ;  with  Mrs.  Adding 
and  Kenby  it  would  be  hopeless. 
331 


A  day  or  two  after  Mrs.  March  had  met 
Mrs.  Adding,  she  went  with  her  husband  to 
revere  a  certain  magnificent  blackamoor  whom 
he  had  discovered  at  the  entrance  of  one  of  the 
aristocratic  hotels  on  the  Schlossberg,  where 
he  performed  the  function  of  a  kind  of  cary 
atid,  and  looked,  in  the  black  of  his  skin  and 
the  white  of  his  flowing  costume,  like  a  colos 
sal  figure  carved  in  ebony  and  ivory.  They 
took  a  roundabout  way  through  a  street  en 
tirely  of  villa-pensions  ;  every  house  in  Carls 
bad  but  one  is  a  pension  if  it  is  not  a  hotel ; 
but  these  were  of  a  sort  of  sentimental  pretti- 
ness,  with  each  a  little  garden  before  it,  and  a 
bower  with  an  iron  table  in  it  for  breakfast 
ing  and  supping  out-doors  ;  and  he  said  that 
they  would  be  the  very  places  for  bridal  couples 
who  wished  to  spend  the  honeymoon  in  getting 
well  of  the  wedding  surfeit.  She  denounced 
him  for  saying  such  a  thing  as  that,  and  for  his 
inconsistency  in  complaining  of  lovers  while  he 
was  willing  to  think  of  young  married  people. 
He  contended  that  there  was  a  great  differ 
ence  in  the  sort  of  demand  that  young  married 
people  made  upon  the  interest  of  witnesses, 
and  that  they  were  at  least  on  their  way  to 
sanity  ;  and  before  they  agreed,  they  had  come 
to  the  hotel  with  the  blackamoor  at  the  door. 
While  they  lingered  sharing  the  splendid  creat 
ure's  hospitable  pleasure  in  the  spectacle  he 
formed,  they  were  aware  of  a  carriage  with 
332 


liveried  coachman  and  footman  at  the  steps  of 
the  hotel ;  the  liveries  were  very  quiet  and  dis 
tinguished,  and  they  learned  that  the  equipage 
was  waiting  for  the  Prince  of  Coburg,  or  the 
Princess  of  Montenegro,  or  Prince  Henry  of 
Prussia  ;  there  were  differing  opinions  among 
the  twenty  or  thirty  bystanders.  Mrs.  March 
said  she  did  not  care  which  it  was ;  and  she  was 
patient  of  the  denouement,  which  began  to 
postpone  itself  with  delicate  delays.  After  re 
peated  agitations  at  the  door  among  portiers, 
proprietors,  and  waiters,  whose  fluttered  spirits 
imparted  their  thrill  to  the  spectators,  while 
the  coachman  and  footman  remained  sculpt- 
uresquely  impassive  in  their  places,  the  car 
riage  moved  aside  and  let  an  energetic  Ameri 
can  lady  and  her  family  drive  up  to  the  steps. 
The  hotel  people  paid  her  a  tempered  devotion, 
but  she  marred  the  effect  by  rushing  out  and 
sitting  on  a  balcony  to  wait  for  the  delaying 
royalties.  There  began  to  be  more  promises  of 
their  early  appearance  ;  a  footman  got  down 
and  placed  himself  at  the  carriage  door  ;  the 
coachman  stiffened  himself  on  his  box  ;  then 
he  relaxed  ;  the  footman  drooped,  and  even 
wandered  aside.  There  came  a  moment  when 
at  some  signal  the  carriage  drove  quite  away 
from  the  portal  and  waited  near  the  gate  of 
the  stable-yard  ;  it  drove  back,  and  the  spec 
tators  redoubled  their  attention.  Nothing 
happened,  and  some  of  them  dropped  off.  At 
333 


last  an  indescribable  significance  expressed  it 
self  on  the  official  group  at  the  door  ;  a  man 
in  a  high  hat  and  dress-coat  hurried  out ;  a 
footman  hurried  to  meet  him  ;  they  spoke  in- 
audibly  together.  The  footman  mounted  to 
his  place  ;  the  coachman  gathered  up  his  reins 
and  drove  rapidly  out  of  the  hotel-yard,  down 
the  street,  round  the  corner,  out  of  sight. 
The  man  in  the  tall  hat  and  dress-coat  went 
in  ;  the  official  group  at  the  threshold  dis 
solved  ;  the  statue  in  ivory  and  ebony  resumed 
its  place  ;  evidently  the  Hoheit  of  Coberg,  or 
Montenegro,  or  Prussia,  was  not  going  to  take 
the  air. 

"  My  dear,  this  is  humiliating." 

"  Not  at  all  !  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for 
anything.  Think  how  near  we  came  to  seeing 
them  !" 

"  I  shouldn't  feel  so  shabby  if  we  had  seen 
them.  But  to  hang  round  here  in  this  plebeian 
abeyance,  and  then  to  be  defeated  and  defraud 
ed  at  last !  I  wonder  how  long  this  sort  of 
thing  is  going  on  ?" 

"What  thing?" 

"  This  base  subjection  of  the  imagination  to 
the  Tom  Foolery  of  the  Ages." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  I'm  sure  it's 
very  natural  to  want  to  see  a  Prince." 

"  Only  too  natural.  It's  so  deeply  founded 
in  nature  that  after  denying  royalty  by  word 
and  deed  for  a  hundred  years,  we  Americans 
334 


are  hungrier  for  it  than  anybody  else.  Per 
haps  we  may  come  back  to  it !" 

"  Nonsense  !" 

They  looked  up  at  the  Austrian  flag  on  the 
tower  of  the  hotel,  languidly  curling  and  un 
curling  in  the  bland  evening  air,  as  it  had  over 
a  thousand  years  of  stupid  and  selfish  mon 
archy,  while  all  the  generous  republics  of  the 
Middle  Ages  had  perished,  and  the  common 
wealths  of  later  times  had  passed  like  fever 
dreams.  That  dull  inglorious  empire  had  an 
tedated  or  outlived  Venice  and  Genoa,  Flor 
ence  and  Siena,  the  England  of  Cromwell,  the 
Holland  of  the  Stadtholders,  and  the  France 
of  many  revolutions,  and  all  the  fleeting  de 
mocracies  which  sprang  from  these. 

March  began  to  ask  himself  how  his  curiosity 
differed  from  that  of  the  Europeans  about 
him ;  then  he  became  aware  that  these  had  de 
tached  themselves,  and  left  him  exposed  to  the 
presence  of  a  fellow-countryman.  It  was  Ot- 
terson,  with  Mrs.  Otterson  ;  he  turned  upon 
March  with  hilarious  recognition.  "  Hello  ! 
Most  of  the  Americans  in  Carlsbad  seem  to  be 
hanging  round  here  for  a  sight  of  these  kings. 
Well,  we  don't  have  a  great  many  of  'em,  and 
it's  natural  we  shouldn't  want  to  miss  any. 
But  now,  you  Eastern  fellows,  you  go  to  Europe 
every  summer,  and  yet  you  don't  seem  to  get 
enough  of  'em.  Think  it's  human  nature,  or 
did  it  get  so  ground  into  us  in  the  old  times 
335 


that  we  can't  get  it  out,  no  difference  what  we 
say  ?" 

"  That's  very  much  what  I've  been  asking 
myself,"  said  March.  "  Perhaps  it's  any  kind 
of  show.  We'd  wait  nearly  as  long  for  the 
President  to  come  out,  wouldn't  we  ?" 

"  I  reckon  we  would.  But  we  wouldn't  for  his 
nephew,  or  his  second  cousin." 

"Well,  they  wouldn't  be  in  the  way  of  the 
succession." 

"  I  guess  your  right."  The  lowan  seemed 
better  satisfied  with  March's  philosophy  than 
March  felt  himself,  and  he  could  not  forbear 
adding: 

"  But  I  don't  deny  that  we  should  wait  for 
the  President  because  he's  a  kind  of  king  too. 
I  don't  know  that  we  shall  ever  get  over  want 
ing  to  see  kings  of  some  kind.  Or  at  least  my 
wife  won't.  May  I  present  you  to  Mrs.  March  ?" 

"  Happy  to  meet  you,  Mrs.  March,"  said  the 
lowan.  "  Introduce  you  to  Mrs.  Otterson.  PHI 
the  fool  in  my  family,  and  I  know  just  how  you 
feel  about  a  chance  like  this.  I  don't  mean  that 
you're — ' 

They  all  laughed  at  the  hopeless  case,  and 
Mrs.  March  said,  with  one  of  her  unexpected 
likings  :  "  I  understand,  Mr.  Otterson.  And  I 
would  rather  be  our  kind  of  fool  than  the  kind 
that  pretends  not  to  care  for  the  sight  of  a 
king." 

"  Like  you  and  me,  Mrs.  Otterson,"  said  March. 
336 


"Indeed,  indeed,"  said  the  lady,  "I'd  like  to 
see  a  king  too,  if  it  didn't  take  all  night.  Good- 
evening,"  she  said,  turning  her  husband  about 
with  her,  as  if  she  suspected  a  purpose  of  pat 
ronage  in  Mrs.  March,  and  was  not  going  to 
have  it. 

Otterson  looked  over  his  shoulder  to  explain, 
despairingly:  "The  trouble  with  me  is  that 
when  I  do  get  a  chance  to  talk  English,  there's 
such  a  flow  of  language  it  carries  me  away,  and 
T  don't  know  just  where  I'm  landing." 


XXXII 


THERE  were  several  kings  and  their  kin 
dred  at  Carlsbad  that  summer.  One 
day  the  Duchess  of  Orleans  drove  over 
from  Marienbad,  attended  by  the  Duke  on  his 
bicycle.  After  luncheon,  they  reappeared  for 
a  moment  before  mounting  to  her  carriage 
with  their  secretaries  :  two  young  French  gen 
tlemen  whose  dress  and  bearing  better  satisfied 
Mrs.  March's  exacting  passion  for  an  aristo 
cratic  air  in  their  order.  The  Duke  was  fat 
and  fair,  as  a  Bourbon  should  be,  and  the 
Duchess  fatter  though  not  so  fair,  as  became  a 
Hapsburg,  but  they  were  both  more  plebeian- 
looking  than  their  retainers,  who  were  slender 
as  well  as  young,  and  as  perfectly  appointed 
as  English  tailors  could  imagine  them. 

"  It  wouldn't  do  for  the  very  highest  sort  of 
Highhotes,"  March  suggested,  "  to  look  their 
own   consequence    personally ;    they    have    to 
338 


leave   that,  like   everything   else,  to  their  in 
feriors." 

By  a  happy  heterophemy  of  Mrs.  March's 
the  German  Hoheit  had  now  become  Highhote, 
which  was  so  much  more  descriptive  that  they 
had  permanently  adopted  it,  and  found  com 
fort  to  their  republican  pride  in  the  mockery 
which  it  poured  upon  the  feudal  structure  of 
society.  They  applied  it  with  a  certain  com 
punction,  however,  to  the  King  of  Servia,  who 
came  a  few  days  after  the  Duke  and  Duchess  : 
he  was  such  a  young  king,  and  of  such  a  little 
country.  They  watched  for  him  from  the  win 
dows  of  the  reading-room,  while  the  crowd  out 
side  stood  six  deep  on  the  three  sides  of  the 
square  before  the  hotel,  and  the  two  plain  pub 
lic  carriages  which  brought  the  King  and  his 
suite  drew  tamely  up  at  the  portal,  where  the 
proprietor  and  some  civic  dignitaries  received 
him.  His  moderated  approach,  so  little  like 
that  of  royalty  on  the  stage,  to  which  Ameri 
cans  are  used,  allowed  Mrs.  March  to  make  sure 
of  the  pale,  slight,  insignificant,  amiable-look 
ing  youth  in  spectacles  as  the  sovereign  she 
was  ambuscading.  Then  no  appeal  to  her 
principles  could  keep  her  from  peeping  through 
the  reading-room  door  into  the  rotunda,  where 
the  King  graciously  but  speedily  dismissed  the 
civic  gentlemen  and  the  proprietor,  and  van 
ished  into  the  elevator.  She  was  destined  to 
see  him  so  often  afterwards  that  she  scarcely 
339 


took  the  trouble  to  time  her  dining  and  sup 
ping  by  that  of  the  simple  potentate,  who  had 
his  meals  in  one  of  the  public  rooms,  with  three 
gentlemen  of  his  suite,  in  sack-coats  like  him 
self,  after  the  informal  manner  of  the  place. 

Still  another  potentate,  who  happened  that 
summer  to  be  sojourning  abroad,  in  the  inter 
val  of  a  successful  rebellion,  was  at  the  opera 
one  night  with  some  of  his  faithful  followers. 
Burnamy  had  offered  Mrs.  March,  who  sup 
posed  that  he  merely  wanted  her  and  her  hus 
band  with  him,  places  in  a  box  ;  but  after  she 
eagerly  accepted,  it  seemed  that  he  wished  her 
to  advise  him  whether  it  would  do  to  ask  Miss 
Triscoe  and  her  father  to  join  them.  "Why 
not  ?"  she  returned,  with  an  arching  of  the  eye 
brows. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "perhaps  I  had  better  make 
a  clean  breast  of  it." 

"  Perhaps  you  had,"  she  said,  and  they  both 
laughed,  though  he  laughed  with  a  knot  be 
tween  his  eyes. 

"  The  fact  is,  you  know,  this  isn't  my  treat, 
exactly.  It's  Mr.  Stoller's."  At  the  surprise 
in  her  face  he  hurried  on.  "  He's  got  back  his 
first  letter  in  the  paper,  and  he's  so  much 
pleased  with  the  way  he  reads  in  print,  that  he 
wants  to  celebrate." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  March,  non-committally. 

Burnamy  laughed  again.  "  But  he's  bash 
ful,  and  he  isn't  sure  that  you  would  all  take  it 


in  the  right  way.  He  wants  you  as  friends  of 
mine  ;  and  he  hasn't  quite  the  courage  to  ask 
you  himself." 

This  seemed  to  Mrs.  March  so  far  from  bad 
that  she  said:  "  That's  very  nice  of  him.  Then 
he's  satisfied  with — with  your  help  ?  I'm  glad 
of  that." 

"  Thank  you.  He's  met  the  Triscoes,  and 
he  thought  it  would  be  pleasant  to  you  if  they 
went,  too." 

"Oh,  certainly." 

"  He  thought,"  Burnamy  went  on,  with  the 
air  of  feeling  his  way,  "  that  we  might  all  go  to 
the  opera,  and  then — then  go  for  a  little  sup 
per  afterwards  at  Schwarzkopf's." 

He  named  the  only  place  in  Carlsbad  where 
you  can  sup  so  late  as  ten  o'clock  ;  as  the  opera 
begins  at  six,  and  is  over  at  half  past  eight, 
none  but  the  wildest  roisterers  frequent  the 
place  at  that  hour. 

"Oh!"  said  Mrs.  March.  "I  don't  know 
how  a  late  supper  would  agree  with  my  hus 
band's  cure.  I  should  have  to  ask  him." 

"  We  could  make  it  very  hygienic,"  Bur 
namy  explained. 

In  repeating  his  invitation  she  blamed  Bur- 
namy's  uncandor  so  much  that  March  took 
his  part,  as  perhaps  she  intended,  and  said, 
"  Oh,  nonsense,"  and  that  he  should  like  to  go 
in  for  the  whole  thing  ;  and  General  Triscoe 
accepted  as  promptly  for  himself  and  his 


daughter.  That  made  six  people,  Burnamy 
counted  up,  and  he  feigned  a  decent  regret 
that  there  was  not  room  for  Mrs.  Adding  and 
her  son  ;  he  would  have  liked  to  ask  them. 

Mrs.  March  did  .not  enjoy  it  so  much  as  corn 
ing  with  her  husband  alone,  when  they  took 
two  florin  seats  in  the  orchestra  for  the  com 
edy.  The  comedy  always  began  half  an  hour 
earlier  than  the  opera,  and  they  had  a  five- 
o'clock  supper  at  the  Theatre-Cafe  before  they 
went,  and  they  got  to  sleep  by  nine  o'clock  ; 
now  they  would  be  up  till  half  past  ten  at 
least,  and  that  orgy  at  Schwarzkopf's  might 
not  be  at  all  good  for  him.  But  still  she  liked 
being  there  ;  and  Miss  Triscoe  made  her  take 
the  best  seat  ;  Burnamy  and  Stoller  made  the 
older  men  take  the  other  seats  beside  the 
ladies,  while  they  sat  behind,  or  stood  up, 
when  they  wished  to  see,  as  people  do  in  the 
back  of  a  box.  Stoller  was  not  much  at  ease 
in  evening  dress,  but  he  bore  himself  with  a 
dignity  which  was  not  perhaps  so  gloomy  as  it 
looked  ;  Mrs.  March  thought  him  handsome  in 
his  way,  and  required  Miss  Triscoe  to  admire 
him.  As  for  Burnamy's  beauty  it  was  not 
necessary  to  insist  upon  that ;  he  had  the  dis 
tinction  of  slender  youth  ;  and  she  liked  to 
think  that  no  Highhote  there  was  of  a  more 
patrician  presence  than  this  yet  unprinted 
contributor  to  Every  Other  Week.  He  and 
Stoller  seemed  on  perfect  terms  ;  or  else  in  his 
342 


joy  he  was  able  to  hide  the  uneasiness  which 
she  had  fancied  in  him  from  the  first  time  she 
saw  them  together,  and  which  had  never  been 
quite  absent  from  his  manner  in  Stoller's 
presence.  Her  husband  always  denied  that  it 
existed,  or  if  it  did  that  it  was  anything  but 
Burnamy's  effort  to  get  on  common  ground 
with  an  inferior  whom  fortune  had  put  over 
him. 

The  young  fellow  talked  with  Stoller,  and 
tried  to  bring  him  into  the  range  of  the  gen 
eral  conversation.  He  leaned  over  the  ladies, 
from  time  to  time,  and  pointed  out  the  nota 
bles  whom  he  saw  in  the  house  ;  she  was  glad, 
for  his  sake,  that  he  did  not  lean  less  over  her 
than  over  Miss  Triscoe.  He  explained  certain 
military  figures  in  the  boxes  opposite,  and  cer 
tain  ladies  of  rank  who  did  not  look  their 
rank ;  Miss  Triscoe,  to  Mrs.  March's  thinking, 
looked  their  united  ranks,  and  more  ;  her  dress 
was  very  simple,  but  of  a  touch  which  saved 
it  from  being  insipidly  girlish  ;  her  beauty  was 
dazzling. 

"  Do  you  see  that  old  fellow  in  the  corner 
chair  just  behind  the  orchestra?"  asked  Bur- 
namy.  "He's  ninety -six  years  old,  and  he 
comes  to  the  theatre  every  night,  and  falls 
asleep  as  soon  as  the  curtain  rises,  and  sleeps 
through  till  the  end  of  the  act." 

"  How  dear  !"  said  the  girl,  leaning  forward 
to  fix  the  nonagenarian  with  her  glasses,  while 
345 


many  other  glasses  converged  upon  her.    "  Oh, 
wouldn't  you  like  to  know  him,  Mr.  March  ?" 

"  I  should  consider  it  a  liberal  education. 
They  have  brought  these  things  to  a  perfect 
system  in  Europe.  There  is  nothing  to  make 
life  pass  smoothly  like  inflexible  constancy  to 
an  entirely  simple  custom.  My  dear,"  he  added 
to  his  wife,  "  I  wish  we'd  seen  this  sage  before. 
He'd  have  helped  us  through  agood  many  hours 
of  unintelligible  comedy.  I'm  always  coming 
as  Burnamy's  guest,  after  this." 

The  young  fellow  swelled  with  pleasure  in 
his  triumph,  and  casting  an  eye  about  the 
theatre  to  cap  it,  he  caught  sight  of  that  other 
potentate.  He  whispered  joyfully,  "  Ah  !  We've 
got  two  kings  here  to-night,"  and  he  indicated 
in  a  box  of  their  tier  just  across  from  that 
where  the  King  of  Servia  sat,  the  well-known 
face  of  the  King  of  New  York. 

"  He  isn't  bad-looking,"  said  March,  handing 
his  glass  to  General  Triscoe.  "  I've  not  seen 
many  kings  in  exile  ;  a  matter  of  a  few  Carlist 
princes  and  ex-sovereign  dukes,  and  the  good 
Henry  V.  of  France,  once,  when  I  was  staying 
a  month  in  Venice  ;  but  I  don't  think  they  any 
of  them  looked  the  part  better.  I  suppose  he 
has  his  dream  of  recurring  power  like  the 
rest." 

"Dream  !"  said  General  Triscoe  with  the  glass 
at  his  eyes.  "  He's  dead  sure  of  it." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  really  mean  that !" 
346 


"I  don't  know  why  I  should  have  changed 
my  mind." 

"  Then  it's  as  if  we  were  in  the  presence  of 
Charles  II.  just  before  he  was  called  back  to 
England,  or  Napoleon  in  the  last  moments  of 
Elba.  It's  better  than  that.  The  thing  is  al 
most  unique;  it's  a  new  situation  in  history. 
Here's  a  sovereign  who  has  no  recognized  func 
tion,  no  legal  status,  no  objective  existence. 
He  has  no  sort  of  public  being,  except  in  the 
affection  of  his  subjects.  It  took  an  upheaval 
little  short  of  an  earthquake  to  unseat  him. 
His  rule,  as  we  understand  it,  was  bad  for  all 
classes  ;  the  poor  suffered  more  than  the  rich  ; 
the  people  have  now  had  three  years  of  self- 
government  ;  and  yet  this  wonderful  man  has 
such  a  hold  upon  the  masses  that  he  is  going 
home  to  win  the  cause  of  oppression  at  the  head 
of  the  oppressed.  When  he's  in  power  again, 
he  will  be  as  subjective  as  ever,  with  the  power 
of  civic  life  and  death,  and  an  idolatrous  fol 
lowing  perfectly  ruthless  in  the  execution  of 
his  will." 

"  We've  only  begun,"  said  the  general.  "  This 
kind  of  king  is  municipal,  now;  but  he's  going 
to  be  national.  And  then,  good-bye,  Republic !" 

"  The  only  thing  like  it,"  March  resumed,  too 
incredulous  of  the  evil  future  to  deny  himself 
the  aesthetic  pleasure  of  the  parallel,  "  is  the 
rise  of  the  Medici  in  Florence,  but  even  the 
Medici  were  not  mere  manipulators  of  pulls  ; 
347 


they  had  some  sort  of  public  office,  with  some 
sort  of  legislated  tenure  of  it.  The  King  of 
New  York  is  sovereign  by  force  of  will  alone, 
and  he  will  reign  in  the  voluntary  submission 
of  the  majority.  Is  our  national  dictator  to  be 
of  the  same  nature  and  quality  ?" 

"That  would  be  the  scientific  evolution, 
wouldn't  it?" 

The  ladies  listened  with  the  perfunctory  at 
tention  which  women  pay  to  any  sort  of  inquiry 
which  is  not  personal.  Stoller  had  scarcely 
spoken  yet  ;  he  now  startled  them  all  by  de 
manding,  with  a  sort  of  vindictive  force,  "Why 
shouldn't  he  have  the  power,  if  they're  willing 
to  let  him  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  General  Triscoe,  with  a  tilt  of  his 
head  towards  March.  "  That's  what  we  must 
ask  ourselves  more  and  more." 

March  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  looked 
up  over  his  shoulder  at  Stoller.  "  Well,  I  don't 
know.  Do  you  think  it's  quite  right  for  a  man 
to  use  an  unjust  power,  even  if  others  are  will 
ing  that  he  should  ?" 

Stoller  stopped,  with  an  air  of  bewilderment 
as  if  surprised  on  the  point  of  affirming  that  he 
thought  just  this.  He  asked  instead,  "What's 
wrong  about  it  ?" 

"Well,  that's  one  of  those  things  that  have  to 
be  felt,  I  suppose.  But  if  a  man  came  to  you, 
and  offered  to  be  your  slave  for  a  certain  con 
sideration  —  say  a  comfortable  house  and  a 
348 


steady  job,  that  wasn't  too  hard — should  you 
feel  it  morally  right  to  accept  the  offer  ?  I 
don't  say  think  it  right,  for  there  might  be  a 
kind  of  logic  for  it." 

Stoller  seemed  about  to  answer  ;  he  hesi 
tated  ;  and  before  he  had  made  any  response, 
the  curtain  rose. 


XXXIII 


THERE  are  few  prettier  things  than 
Carlsbad  by  night  from  one  of  the 
many  bridges  which  span  the  Tepl  in 
its  course  through  the  town.  If  it  is  a  starry 
night,  the  torrent  glides  swiftly  away  with  an 
inverted  firmament  in  its  bosom,  to  which  the 
lamps  along  its  shores  and  in  the  houses  on 
either  side  contribute  a  planetary  splendor 
of  their  own.  By  nine  o'clock  everything  is 
hushed  ;  not  a  wheel  is  heard  at  that  dead 
hour  ;  the  few  feet  shuffling  stealthily  through 
the  Alte  Wiese  whisper  a  caution  of  silence  to 
those  issuing  with  a  less  guarded  tread  from 
the  opera  ;  the  little  bowers  that  overhang  the 
stream  are  as  dark  and  mute  as  the  restaurants 
across  the  way  which  serve  meals  in  them  by 
day ;  the  whole  place  is  as  forsaken  as  other 
cities  at  midnight.  People  get  quickly  home  to 
bed,  or  if  they  have  a  mind  to  snatch  a  belated 
35° 


joy,  they  slip  into  the  Theatre-Cafe,  where  the 
sleepy  Frauleins  serve  them,  in  an  exemplary 
drowse,  with  plates  of  cold  ham  and  bottles  of 
the  gently  gaseous  waters  of  Giesshiibl.  Few 
are  of  the  bold  badness  which  delights  in  a  sup 
per  at  Schwarzkopf's,  and  even  these  are  glad 
of  the  drawn  curtains  which  hide  their  orgy 
from  the  chance  passer. 

The  invalids  of  Burnamy's  party  kept  to 
gether,  strengthening  themselves  in  a  mutual 
purpose  not  to  be  tempted  to  eat  anything 
which  was  not  strictly  kurgeinass.  Mrs.  March 
played  upon  the  interest  which  each  of  them 
felt  in  his  own  case  so  artfully  that  she  kept 
them  talking  of  their  cure,  and  left  Burnamy 
and  Miss  Triscoe  to  a  moment  on  the  bridge, 
by  which  they  profited,  while  the  others  strolled 
on,  to  lean  against  the  parapet  and  watch  the 
lights  in  the  skies  and  the  water,  and  be  alone 
together.  The  stream  shone  above  and  below, 
and  found  its  way  out  of  and  into  the  darkness 
under  the  successive  bridges  ;  the  town  climbed 
into  the  night  with  lamp-lit  windows  here  and 
there,  till  the  woods  of  the  hill-sides  darkened 
down  to  meet  it,  and  fold  it  in  an  embrace  from 
which  some  white  edifice  showed  palely  in  the 
farthest  gloom. 

He  tried  to  make  her  think  they  could  see 

that  great  iron  crucifix  which  watches  over  it 

day  and  night  from  its  piny  cliff.     He  had  a 

fancy  for  a  poem,  very  impressionistic,  which 

35' 


should  convey  the  notion  of  the  crucifix's  vigil. 
He  submitted  it  to  her  ;  and  they  remained 
talking  till  the  others  had  got  out  of  sight  and 
hearing  ;  and  she  was  letting  him  keep  the 
hand  on  her  arm  which  he  had  put  there  to 
hold  her  from  falling  over  the  parapet,  when 
they  were  both  startled  by  approaching  steps, 
and  a  voice  calling,  "  Look  here  !  Who's  run 
ning  this  supper  party,  anyway  ?" 

His  wife  had  detached  March  from  her  group 
for  the  mission,  as  soon  as  she  felt  that  the 
young  people  were  abusing  her  kindness.  They 
answered  him  with  hysterical  laughter,  and 
Burnamy  said,  "  Why,  it's  Mr.  Stoller's  treat, 
you  know." 

.  At  the  restaurant,  where  the  proprietor  ob 
sequiously  met  the  party  on  the  threshold  and 
bowed  them  into  a  pretty  inner  room,  with  a 
table  set  for  their  supper,  Stoller  had  gained 
courage  to  play  the  host  openly.  He  appointed 
General  Triscoe  to  the  chief  seat ;  he  would 
have  put  his  daughter  next  to  him,  if  the  girl 
had  not  insisted  upon  Mrs.  March's  having  the 
place,  and  going  herself  to  sit  next  to  March, 
whom  she  said  she  had  not  been  able  to  speak  a 
word  to  the  whole  evening.  But  she  did  not 
talk  a  great  deal  to  him  ;  he  smiled  to  find  how 
soon  he  dropped  out  of  the  conversation,  and 
Burnamy,  from  his  greater  remoteness  across 
the  table,  dropped  into  it.  He  really  preferred 
the  study  of  Stoller,  whose  instinct  of  a  greater 
352 


worldly  quality  in  the  Triscoes  interested  him  ; 
he  could  see  him  listening  now  to  what  General 
Triscoe  was  saying  to  Mrs.  March,  and  now  to 
what  Burnamy  was  saying  to  Miss  Triscoe  ;  his 
strong,  selfish  face,  as  he  turned  it  on  the  young 
people,  expressed  a  mingled  grudge  and  greed 
that  was  very  curious. 

Stoller's  courage,  which  had  come  and  gone 
at  moments  throughout,  rose  at  the  end,  and 
while  they  lingered  at  the  table  well  on  to  the 
hour  of  ten,  he  said,  in  the  sort  of  helpless  of 
fence  he  had  with  Burnamy,  "What's  the  rea 
son  we  can't  all  go  out  to-morrow  to  that  old 
castle  you  was  talking  about  ?" 

"  To  Engelhaus  ?  I  don't  know  any  rea 
son,  as  far  as  I'm  concerned,"  answered 
Burnamy  ;  but  he  refused  the  initiative  of 
fered  him,  and  Stoller  was  obliged  to  ask 
March  : 

"  You  heard  about  it  ?" 

"Yes."  General  Triscoe  was  listening,  and 
March  added  for  him,  "  It  was  the  hold  of 
an  old  robber  baron  ;  Gustavus  Adolphus 
knocked  it  down,  and  it's  very  picturesque,  I 
believe." 

"  It  sounds  promising,"  said  the  general. 
"  Where  is  it  ?" 

"  Isn't  to-morrow  your  mineral  bath  ?"  Mrs. 
March  interposed  between  her  husband  and 
temptation. 

"  No  ;  the  day  after.  Why,  it's  about  ten  or 
355 


twelve  miles  out  on  the  old  post-road  that  Na 
poleon  took  for  Prague." 

"  Napoleon  knew  a  good  road  when  he  saw 
it,"  said  the  general,  and  he  alone  of  the  com 
pany  lighted  a  cigar.  He  was  decidedly  in 
favor  of  the  excursion,  and  he  arranged  for  it 
with  Stoller,  whom  he  had  the  effect  of  using 
for  his  pleasure  as  if  he  were  doing  him  a  fa 
vor.  They  were  six,  and  two  carriages  would 
take  them  ;  a  two-spanner  for  four,  and  a  one- 
spanner  for  two;  they  could  start  directly  after 
dinner,  and  get  home  in  time  for  supper. 

Stoller  asserted  himself  to  say  :  "  That's  all 
right,  then.  I  want  you  to  be  my  guests,  and 
I'll  see  about  the  carriages."  He  turned  to 
Burnamy  :  "  Will  you  order  them  ?" 

"  Oh,"  said  the  young  fellow,  with  a  sort  of 
dryness,  "the  porticr  will  get  them." 

"  I  don't  understand  why  General  Triscoe 
was  so  willing  to  accept.  Surely,  he  can't  like 
that  man  !"  said  Mrs.  March  to  her  husband  in 
their  own  room. 

"  Oh,  I  fancy  that  wouldn't  be  essential. 
The  general  seems  to  me  capable  of  letting 
even  an  enemy  serve  his  turn.  Why  didn't 
you  speak,  if  you  didn't  want  to  go  ?" 

"Why  didn't  you  ?" 

"  I  wanted  to  go." 

"And  I  knew  it  wouldn't  do  to  let  Miss  Tris 
coe  go  alone  ;  I  could  see  that  she  wished  to 
go." 

356 


"Do  you  think  Burnamy  did?" 

"  He  seemed  rather  indifferent.  And  yet  he 
must  have  realized  that  he  would  be  with  her 
the  whole  afternoon." 


XXXIV 


IF  Burnamy  and  Miss  Triscoe  took  the  lead 
in  the  one-spanner,  and  the  others  followed 
in  the  two-spanner,  it  was  not  from  want 
of  politeness  on  the  part  of  the  young  people 
in  offering  to  give  up  their  places  to  each  of 
their  elders  in  turn.  It  would  have  been  gro 
tesque  for  either  March  or  Stoller  to  drive  with 
the  girl  ;  for  her  father  it  was  apparently  no 
question,  after  a  glance  at  the  more  rigid  up 
rightness  of  the  seat  in  the  one-spanner  ;  and 
he  accepted  the  place  beside  Mrs.  March  on  the 
back  seat  of  the  two-spanner  without  demur. 
He  asked  her  leave  to  smoke,  and  then  he 
scarcely  spoke  to  her.  But  he  talked  to  the 
two  men  in  front  of  him  almost  incessantly, 
haranguing  them  upon  the  inferiority  of  our 
conditions  and  the  futility  of  our  hopes  as  a 
people,  with  the  effect  of  bewildering  the 
cruder  arrogance  of  Stoller,  who  could  have 
358 


got  on  with  Triscoe's  contempt  for  the  worth- 
lessness  of  our  working  -  classes,  but  did  not 
know  what  to  do  with  his  scorn  of  the  vulgarity 
and  venality  of  their  employers.  He  accused 
some  of  Stoller's  most  honored  and  envied  cap 
italists  of  being  the  source  of  our  worst  cor 
ruptions,  and  guiltier  than  the  voting  -  cattle 
whom  they  bought  and  sold. 

"  I  think  we  can  get  rid  of  the  whole  trouble 
if  we  go  at  it  the  right  way,"  Stoller  said,  di 
verging  for  the  sake  of  the  point  he  wished  to 
bring  in.  "  I  believe  in  having  the  govern 
ment  run  on  business  principles.  They've  got 
it  here  in  Carlsbad,  already,  just  the  right  sort 
of  thing,  and  it  works.  I  been  lookin'  into  it,  and 
I  got  this  young  man,  yonder  " — he  twisted  his 
hand  in  the  direction  of  the  one-spanner — "  to 
help  me  put  it  in  shape.  I  believe  it's  going 
to  make  our  folks  think,  the  best  ones  among 
them.  Here  !"  He  drew  a  newspaper  out  of 
his  pocket,  folded  to  show  two  columns  in  their 
full  length,  and  handed  it  to  Triscoe,  who  took 
it  with  no  great  eagerness,  and  began  to  run 
his  eye  over  it.  "You  tell  me  what  you  think 
of  that.  I've  put  it  out  for  a  kind  of  a  feeler. 
I  got  some  money  in  that  paper,  and  I  just 
thought  I'd  let  our  people  see  how  a  city  can 
be  managed  on  business  principles." 

He  kept  his  eye  eagerly  upon  Triscoe,  as  if 
to  follow  his  thought  while  he  read,  and  keep 
him  up  to  the  work,  and  he  ignored  the  Marches 
359 


so  entirely  that  they  began  in  self-defence  to 
talk  with  each  other. 

Their  carriage  had  climbed  from  Carlsbad  in 
long  irregular  curves  to  the  breezy  upland 
where  the  great  highroad  to  Prague  ran 
through  fields  of  harvest.  They  had  come  by 
heights  and  slopes  of  forest,  where  the  serried 
stems  of  the  tall  firs  showed  brown  and  whitish- 
blue  and  grew  straight  as  stalks  of  grain  ;  and 
now  on  either  side  the  farms  opened  under  a 
sky  of  unwonted  cloudlessness.  Narrow  strips 
of  wheat  and  rye,  which  the  men  were  cutting 
with  sickles,  and  the  women  in  red  bodices 
were  binding,  alternated  with  ribands  of  yellow 
ing  oats  and  grass,  and  breadths  of  beets  and 
turnips,  with  now  and  then  lengths  of  ploughed 
land.  In  the  meadows  the  peasants  were  piling 
their  carts  with  heavy  rowen,  the  girls  lifting 
the  hay  on  the  forks,  and  the  men  giving  them 
selves  the  lighter  labor  of  ordering  the  load. 
From  the  upturned  earth,  where  there  ought 
to  have  been  troops  of  strutting  crows,  a  few 
sombre  ravens  rose.  But  they  could  not  rob 
the  scene  of  its  gayety  ;  it  smiled  in  the  sun 
shine  with  colors  which  vividly  followed  the 
slope  of  the  land  till  they  were  dimmed  in  the 
forests  on  the  far-off  mountains.  Nearer  and 
farther,  the  cottages  and  villages  shone  in  the 
valleys,  or  glimmered  through  the  veils  of  the 
distant  haze.  Over  all  breathed  the  keen  pure 
air  of  the  hills,  with  a  sentiment  of  changeless 
360 


eld,  which  charmed  March  back  to  his  boyhood, 
where  he  lost  the  sense  of  his  wife's  presence, 
and  answered  her  vaguely.  She  talked  con 
tentedly  on  in  the  monologue  to  which  the 
wives  of  absent-minded  men  learn  to  resign 
themselves.  They  were  both  roused  from  their 
vagary  by  the  voice  of  General  Triscoe.  He 
was  handing  back  the  folded  newspaper  to 
Stoller,  and  saying,  with  a  queer  look  at  him 
over  his  glasses,  "  I  should  like  to  see  what 
your  contemporaries  have  to  say  to  all  that." 

"  Well,  sir,"  Stoller  returned,  "  maybe  I'll 
have  the  chance  to  show  you.  They  got  my 
instructions  over  there  to  send  everything  to 
me." 

Burnamy  and  Miss  Triscoe  gave  little  heed 
to  the  landscape  as  landscape.  They  agreed 
that  the  human  interest  was  the  great  thing 
on  a  landscape,  after  all ;  but  they  ignored  the 
peasants  in  the  fields  and  meadows,  who  were 
no  more  to  them  than  the  driver  on  the  box, 
or  the  people  in  the  two-spanner  behind.  They 
were  talking  of  the  hero  and  heroine  of  a  novel 
they  had  both  read,  and  he  was  saying,  "I  sup 
pose  you  think  he  was  justly  punished." 

"  Punished  ?"  she  repeated.  "  Why,  they  got 
married,  after  all !" 

"  Yes,  but  you  could  see  that  they  were  not 
going  to  be  happy." 

"  Then  it  seems  to  me  that  she  was  punished, 
too." 

361 


"  Well,  yes  ;  you  might  say  that.  The  author 
couldn't  help  that." 

Miss  Triscoe  was  silent  a  moment  before  she 
said  :  "  I  always  thought  the  author  was  rather 
hard  on  the  hero.  The  girl  was  very  exacting." 

"  Why,"  said  Burnamy,  "  I  supposed  that 
women  hated  anything  like  deception  in  men 
too  much  to  tolerate  it  at  all.  Of  course,  in 
this  case,  he  didn't  deceive  her  ;  he  let  her  de 
ceive  herself  ;  but  wasn't  that  worse?" 

"  Yes,  that  was  worse.  She  could  have  for 
given  him,  for  deceiving  her." 

"Oh!" 

"  He  might  have  had  to  do  that.  She 
wouldn't  have  minded  his  fibbing  outright, 
so  much,  for  then  it  wouldn't  have  seemed  to 
come  from  his  nature.  But  if  he  just  let  her 
believe  what  wasn't  true,  and  didn't  say  a  word 
to  prevent  her,  of  course  it  was  worse.  It  showed 
something  weak,  something  cowardly  in  him." 

Burnamy  gave  a  little  cynical  laugh.  "  I 
suppose  it  did.  But  don't  you  think  it's  rather 
rough,  expecting  us  to  have  all  the  kinds  of 
courage  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  she  assented.  "  That  is  why  I 
say  she  was  too  exacting.  But  a  man  oughtn't 
to  defend  him." 

Burnamy's  laugh  had  more  pleasure  in  it 
now.  "  Another  woman  might  ?" 

"  No.     Excuse  him." 

He  turned  to  look  back  at  the  two-spanner  ; 
362 


it  was  rather  far  behind,  and  he  spoke  to  their 
driver,  bidding  him  go  slowly  till  it  caught  up 
with  them.  By  the  time  it  did  so,  they  were 
so  close  to  the  ruin  that  they  could  distinguish 
the  lines  of  its  wandering  and  broken  walls. 
Ever  since  they  had  climbed  from  the  wooded 
depths  of  the  hills  above  Carlsbad  to  the  open 
plateau,  it  had  shown  itself  in  greater  and 
greater  detail.  The  detached  mound  of  rock 
on  which  it  stood  rose  like  an  island  in  the 
midst  of  the  vast  plain,  and  commanded  the 
highways  in  every  direction. 

"  I  believe,"  Burnamy  broke  out,  with  a  bit 
terness  apparently  relevant  to  the  ruin  alone, 
"  that  if  you  hadn't  required  any  quarterings 
of  nobility  from  him,  Stoller  would  have  made 
a  good  sort  of  robber  baron.  He's  a  robber 
baron  by  nature,  now,  and  he  wouldn't  have 
any  scruple  in  levying  tribute  on  us  here  in 
our  one-spanner,  if  his  castle  was  in  good  re 
pair  and  his  crossbowmen  were  not  on  a  strike. 
But  they  would  be  on  a  strike,  probably,  and 
then  he  would  lock  them  out,  and  employ  none 
but  non-union  crossbowmen." 

If  Miss  Triscoe  understood  that  he  arraigned 
the  morality  as  well  as  the  civility  of  his  em 
ployer,  she  did  not  take  him  more  seriously 
than  he  meant,  apparently,  for  she  laughed 
as  she  said,  "  I  don't  see  how  you  can  have 
anything  to  do  with  him,  if  you  feel  so  about 
him." 

363 


"Oh,"  Burnamy  replied,  in  kind,  "he  buys 
my  poverty  and  not  my  will.  And  perhaps 
if  I  thought  better  of  myself,  I  should  respect 
him  more." 

"  Have  you  been  doing  something  very 
wicked  ?"  she  asked. 

"  What  should  you  have  to  say  to  me,  if  I 
had?"  he  bantered. 

"  Oh,  I  should  have  nothing  at  all  to  say  to 
you,"  she  mocked  back. 

They  turned  a  corner  of  the  highway,  and 
drove  rattling  through  a  village  street  up  a 
long  slope  to  the  rounded  hill  which  it  crowned. 
A  church  at  its  base  looked  out  upon  an  ir 
regular  square. 

A  gaunt  figure  of  a  man,  with  a  staring 
mask,  which  seemed  to  hide  a  darkling  mind 
within,  came  out  of  the  church,  and  locked  it 
behind  him.  He  proved  to  be  the  sacristan, 
and  the  keeper  of  all  the  village's  claims  upon 
the  visitors'  interest ;  he  mastered,  after  a  mo 
ment,  their  wishes  in  respect  to  the  castle,  and 
showed  them  the  path  that  led  to  it  ;  at  the 
top,  he  said,  they  would  find  a  custodian  of  the 
ruins  who  would  admit  them. 


XXXV     , 

THE  path   to  the  castle  slanted  upward 
across  the  shoulder  of  the  hill,  to  a  cer 
tain  point,  and  there  some  rude  stone 
steps  mounted  more    directly.     Wilding  lilac- 
bushes,  as  if  from  some  forgotten  garden,  bor 
dered  the  ascent ;  the  chickory  opened  its  blue 
flower  ;  the  clean  bitter  odor  of  vermouth  rose 
from  the  trodden  turf  ;  but  Nature  spreads  no 
such   lavish  feast  in   wood  or  field  in  the  Old 
World  as  she  spoils  us  with  in  the  New  ;  a  few 
kinds,  repeated  again  and  again,  seem  to  be  all 
her  store,  and   man   must  make  the  most  of 
them.     Miss  Triscoe   seemed  to   find    flowers 
enough  in  the  simple  bouquet  which  Burnamy 
put  together  for  her.     She  took  it,  and  then 
gave  it  back  to  him,  that  she  might  have  both 
hands  for  her  skirt,  and  so  did  him  two  favors. 
A  superannuated  forester  of  the   nobleman 
who  owns  the  ruin  opened  a  gate  for  the  party 
365 


at  the  top,  and  levied  a  tax  of  thirty  kreut- 
zers  each  upon  them,  for  its  maintenance. 
The  castle,  by  his  story,  had  descended  from 
robber  sire  to  robber  son,  till  Gustavus  knocked 
it  to  pieces  in  the  sixteenth  century  ;  three 
hundred  years  later,  the  present  owner  restored 
it ;  and  now  its  broken  walls  and  arches,  built 
of  rubble  mixed  with  brick,  and  neatly  pointed 
up  with  cement,  form  a  ruin  satisfyingly  per 
manent.  The  walls  were  not  of  great  extent, 
but  such  as  they  were  they  enclosed  several 
dungeons  and  a  chapel,  all  underground,  and  a 
cistern  which  once  enabled  the  barons  and  their 
retainers  to  water  their  wine  in  time  of  siege. 
From  that  height  they  could  overlook  the 
neighboring  highways  in  every  direction,  and 
could  bring  a  merchant  train  to,  with  a  shaft 
from  a  crossbow,  or  a  shot  from  an  arquebuse,  at 
pleasure.  With  General  Triscoe's  leave,  March 
praised  the  strategic  strength  of  the  unique 
position,  which  he  found  expressive  of  the  past, 
and  yet  suggestive  of  the  present.  It  was  more 
a  difference  in  method  than  anything  else  that 
distinguished  the  levy  of  customs  by  the  au 
thorities  then  and  now.  What  was  the  essen 
tial  difference,  between  taking  tribute  of  trav 
ellers  passing  on  horseback,  and  collecting  dues 
from  travellers  arriving  by  steamer  ?  They 
did  not  pay  voluntarily  in  either  case  ;  but  it 
might  be  a  proof  of  progress  that  they  no 
longer  fought  the  customs  officials. 
366 


"  Then  you  believe  in  free  trade,"  said  Stoller, 
severely. 

"  No.  I  am  just  inquiring  which  is  the  best 
way  of  enforcing  the  tariff  laws." 

"  I  saw  in  the  Paris  Chronicle,  last  night," 
said  Miss  Triscoe,  "  that  people  are  kept  on 
the  docks  now  for  hours,  and  ladies  cry  at  the 
way  their  things  are  tumbled  over  by  the  in 
spectors." 

"  It's  shocking,"  said  Mrs.  March. 

"  It  seems  to  be  a  return  to  the  scenes  of 
feudal  times,"  her  husband  resumed.  "  But 
I'm  glad  the  travellers  make  no  resistance. 
I'm  opposed  to  private  war  as  much  as  I  am  to 
free  trade." 

"  It  all  comes  round  to  the  same  thing  at 
last,"  said  General  Triscoe.  "  Your  precious 
humanity — 

"  Oh,  I  don't  claim  it  exclusively,"  March 
protested. 

"  Well,  then,  our  precious  humanity  is  like  a 
man  that  has  lost  his  road.  He  thinks  he  is 
rinding  his  way  out,  but  he  is  merely  rounding 
on  his  course,  and  coming  back  to  where  he 
started." 

Stoller  said,  "  I  think  we  ought  to  make  it 
so  rough  for  them,  over  here,  that  they  will 
come  to  America  and  set  up,  if  they  can't 
stand  the  duties." 

"  Oh,  we  ought  to  make  it  rough  for  them 
anyway,"  March  consented. 
367 


If  Stoller  felt  his  irony,  he  did  not  know 
what  to  answer.  He  followed  with  his  eyes 
the  manoeuvre  by  which  Burnamy  and  Miss 
Triscoe  eliminated  themselves  from  the  dis 
cussion,  and  strayed  off  to  another  corner  of 
the  ruin,  where  they  sat  down  on  the  turf  in 
the  shadow  of  the  wall  ;  a  thin,  upland  breeze 
drew  across  them,  but  the  sun  was  hot.  The 
land  fell  away  from  the  height,  and  then  rose 
again  on  every  side  in  carpetlike  fields  and 
in  long  curving  bands,  whose  parallel  colors 
passed  unblended  into  the  distance.  "  I  don't 
suppose,"  Burnamy  said,  "  that  life  ever  does 
much  better  than  this,  do  you  ?  I  feel  like 
knocking  on  a  piece  of  wood  and  saying  '  Un- 
berufen.'  I  might  knock  on  your  bouquet ; 
that's  wood." 

"  It  would  spoil  the  flowers,"  she  said,  look 
ing  down  at  them  in  her  belt.  She  looked  up 
and  their  eyes  met. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said,  presently,  "  what  makes 
us  always  have  a  feeling  of  dread  when  we  are 
happy  ?" 

"  Do  you  have  that,  too  ?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.  Perhaps  it's  because  we  know  that 
change  must  come,  and  it  must  be  for  the 
worse." 

"That  must  be  it.  I  never  thought  of  it  be 
fore,  though." 

"  If  we  had  got  so  far  in  science  that  we 
could  predict  psychological  weather,  and  could 
368 


"HE   FOLLOWED   WITH    HIS   EYES   THE   MANOEUVRE ' 


know  twenty-four  hours  ahead  when  a  warm 
wave  of  bliss  or  a  cold  wave  of  misery  was 
coming,  and  prepare  for  smiles  and  tears  be 
forehand — it  may  come  to  that." 

"  I  hope  it  won't.  I'd  rather  not  know  when 
I  was  to  be  happy  ;  it  would  spoil  the  pleasure  ; 
and  wouldn't  be  any  compensation  when  it  was 
the  other  way." 

A  shadow  fell  across  them,  and  Burnamy 
glanced  round  to  see  Stoller  looking  down  at 
them,  with  a  slant  of  the  face  that  brought  his 
aquiline  profile  into  relief.  "  Oh  !  Have  a 
turf,  Mr.  Stoller  ?"  he  called  gayly  up  to  him. 

"  I  guess  we've  seen  about  all  there  is,"  he 
answered.  "  Hadn't  we  better  be  going?"  He 
probably  did  not  mean  to  be  mandatory. 

"All  right,"  said  Burnamy,  and  he  turned  to 
speak  to  Miss  Triscoe  again  without  further 
notice  of  him. 

They  all  descended  to  the  church  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill  where  the  weird  sacristan  was  wait 
ing  to  show  them  the  cold,  bare  interior,  and 
to  account  for  its  newness  with  the  fact  that 
the  old  church  had  been  burnt,  and  this  one 
built  only  a  few  years  before.  Then  he  locked 
the  doors  after  them,  and  ran  forward  to  open 
against  their  coming  the  chapel  of  the  village 
cemetery,  which  they  were  to  visit  after  they 
had  fortified  themselves  for  it  at  the  village 
cafe. 

They   were   served   by    a    little    hunchback 
371 


maid  ;  and  she  told  them  who  lived  in  the 
chief  house  of  the  village.  It  was  uncommon 
ly  pretty,  where  all  the  houses  were  pictu 
resque,  and  she  spoke  of  it  with  respect  as  the 
dwelling  of  a  rich  magistrate  who  was  clearly 
the  great  man  of  the  place.  March  admired 
the  cat  which  rubbed  against  her  skirt  while 
she  stood  and  talked,  and  she  took  his  praises 
modestly  for  the  cat ;  but  they  wrought  upon 
the  envy  of  her  brother  so  that  he  ran  off  to 
the  garden,  and  came  back  with  two  fat,  sleepy- 
eyed  puppies  which  he  held  up,  with  an  arm 
across  each  of  their  stomachs,  for  the  acclaim 
of  the  spectators. 

"  Oh,  give  him  something  !"  Mrs.  March  en 
treated.  "  He's  such  a  dear." 

"  No,  no  !  I  am  not  going  to  have  my  little 
hunchback  and  her  cat  outdone,"  he  refused  ; 
and  then  he  was  about  to  yield. 

"  Hold  on  !"  said  Stoller,  assuming  the  host. 
"  I  got  the  change." 

He  gave  the  boy  a  few  kreutzers,  when  Mrs. 
March  had  meant  her  husband  to  reward  his 
naivete  with  half  a  florin  at  least ;  but  he 
seemed  to  feel  that  he  had  now  ingratiated 
himself  with  the  ladies,  and  he  put  himself  in 
charge  of  them  for  the  walk  to  the  cemetery 
chapel ;  he  made  Miss  Triscoe  let  him  carry 
her  jacket  when  she  found  it  warm. 

The  chapel  is  dedicated  to  the  Holy  Trinity  ; 
and  the  Jesuit  brother  who  designed  it,  two 
372 


or  three  centuries  ago,  indulged  a  devotional 
fancy  in  the  triangular  form  of  the  structure 
and  the  decorative  details.  Everything  is 
three  -  cornered  ;  the  whole  chapel,  to  begin 
with,  and  then  the  ark  of  the  high  altar  in  the 
middle  of  it,  and  each  of  the  three  side-altars. 
The  clumsy  baroque  taste  of  the  architecture 
is  a  German  version  of  the  impulse  that  was 
making  Italy  fantastic  at  the  time  ;  the  carv 
ing  is  coarse,  and  the  color  harsh,  and  un- 
softened  by  years,  though  it  is  blurred  and 
obliterated  in  places. 

The  sacristan  said  that  the  chapel  was  never 
used  for  anything  but  funeral  services,  and  he 
led  the  way  out  into  the  cemetery,  where  he 
wished  to  display  the  sepultural  devices.  The 
graves  here  were  planted  with  flowers,  and 
some  were  in  a  mourning  of  black  pansies ;  but 
a  space  fenced  apart  from  the  rest  held  a  few 
neglected  mounds,  overgrown  with  weeds  and 
brambles.  This  space,  he  said,  was  for  suicides ; 
but  to  March  it  was  not  so  ghastly  as  the  dapper 
grief  of  certain  tombs  in  consecrated  ground 
where  the  stones  had  photographs  of  the  dead 
on  porcelain  let  into  them.  One  was  the  pict 
ure  of  a  beautiful  young  woman,  who  had  been 
the  wife  of  the  local  magnate  ;  an  eternal  love 
was  vowed  to  her  in  the  inscription,  but  now, 
the  sacristan  said,  with  nothing  of  irony,  the 
magnate  was  married  again,  and  lived  in  that 
prettiest  house  in  the  village.  He  seemed  proud 
373 


of  the  monument,  as  the  thing  worthiest  the  at 
tention  of  the  strangers,  and  he  led  them  with 
less  apparent  hopefulness  to  the  unfinished 
chapel  representing  a  Gethsemane,  with  the 
figure  of  Christ  praying  and  his  apostles  sleep 
ing.  It  is  a  subject  much  celebrated  in  terra 
cotta  about  Carlsbad,  and  it  was  not  a  novelty 
to  his  party  ;  still,  from  its  surroundings,  it  had 
a  fresh  pathos,  and  March  tried  to  make  him 
understand  that  they  appreciated  it.  He  knew 
that  his  wife  wished  the  poor  man  to  think  he 
had  done  them  a  great  favor  in  showing  it ;  he 
had  been  touched  with  all  the  vain  shows  of 
grief  in  the  poor,  ugly  little  place  ;  most  of  all 
he  had  felt  the  exile  of  those  who  had  taken 
their  own  lives  and  were  parted  in  death  from 
the  more  patient  sufferers  who  had  waited  for 
God  to  take  them.  With  a  curious,  unpainful 
self-analysis  he  noted  that  the  older  members 
of  the  party,  who  in  the  course  of  nature  were 
so  much  nearer  death,  did  not  shrink  from  its 
shows ;  but  the  young  girl  and  the  young  man 
had  not  borne  to  look  on  them,  and  had  quick 
ly  escaped  from  the  place,  somewhere  outside 
the  gate.  Was  it  the  beginning,  the  promise, 
of  that  reconciliation  with  death  which  nature 
brings  to  life  at  last,  or  was  it  merely  the  effect, 
or  defect,  of  ossified  sensibilities,  of  toughened 
nerves  ? 

"  That  is  all  ?"  he  asked  of  the  spectral  sa 
cristan. 

374 


"  That  is  all,"  the  man  said,  and  March  felt 
in  his  pocket  for  a  coin  commensurate  to  the 
service  he  had  done  them  ;  it  ought  to  be  some 
thing  handsome. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Stoller,  detecting  his  gesture. 
"  Your  money  a'n't  good." 

He  put  twenty  or  thirty  kreutzers  into  the 
hand  of  the  man,  who  regarded  them  with  a 
disappointment  none  the  less  cruel  because  it 
was  so  patient.  In  France,  he  would  have  been 
insolent ;  in  Italy,  he  would  have  frankly  said 
it  was  too  little  ;  here,  he  merely  looked  at  the 
money  and  whispered  a  sad  "  Danke." 

Burnamy  and  Miss  Triscoe  rose  from  the 
grassy  bank  outside  where  they  were  sitting, 
and  waited  for  the  elders  to  get  into  their  two- 
spanner. 

"  Oh,  have  I  lost  my  glove  in  there  ?"  said 
Mrs.  March,  looking  at  her  hands  and  such 
parts  of  her  dress  as  a  glove  might  cling  to. 

"  Let  me  go  and  find  it  for  you,"  Burnamy 
entreated. 

"Well,"  she  consented,  and  she  added,  "  If  the 
sacristan  has  found  it,  give  him  something  for 
me — something  really  handsome,  poor  fellow." 

As  Burnamy  passed  her,  she  let  him  see  that 
she  had  both  her  gloves,  and  her  heart  yearned 
upon  him  for  his  instant  smile  of  intelligence  : 
some  men  would  have  blundered  out  that  she 
had  the  lost  glove  in  her  hand.  He  came  back 
directly,  saying,  "  No,  I  didn't  find  it." 
375 


She  laughed,  and  held  both  gloves  up.  "  No 
wonder  !  I  had  it  all  the  time.  Thank  you 
ever  so  much." 

"  How  are  we  going  to  ride  back  ?"  asked 
Stoller. 

Burnamy  almost  turned  pale  ;  Miss  Triscoe 
smiled  impenetrably.  No  one  else  spoke,  and 
Mrs.  March  said,  with  placid  authority,  "Oh,  I 
think  the  way  we  came  is  best." 

"  Did  that  absurd  creature,"  she  apostro 
phized  her  husband  as  soon  as  she  got  him 
alone  after  their  arrival  at  Pupp's,  "think  I  was 
going  to  let  him  drive  back  with  Agatha  ?" 

"  I  wonder,"  said  March,  "if  that's  what  Bur 
namy  calls  her  now  ?" 

"  I  shall  despise  him  if  it  isn't." 


XXXVI 

BURNAMY  took  up  his  mail  to  Stoller 
after  the  supper  which  they  had  eaten 
in  a  silence  natural  with  two  men  who 
have  been  off  on  a  picnic  together.  He  did 
not  rise  from  his  writing-desk  when  Burnamy 
came  in,  and  the  young  man  did  not  sit  down 
after  putting  his  letters  before  him.  He  said, 
with  an  effort  of  forcing  himself  to  speak  at 
once,  "  I  have  looked  through  the  papers,  and 
there  is  something  that  I  think  you  ought  to 
see." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Stoller. 
Burnamy  laid  down    three   or   four   papers 
opened  to  pages  where  certain  articles  were 
strongly   circumscribed   in    ink.      The   papers 
varied,  but  their  editorials  did  not,  in  purport 
at   least.     Some   were   grave   and  some  were 
gay  ;  one  indignantly  denounced  ;  another  af 
fected   an    ironical   bewilderment ;    the    third 
377 


simply  had  fun  with  the  Hon.  Jacob  Stoller. 
They  all,  however,  treated  his  letter  on  the 
city  government  of  Carlsbad  as  the  praise  of 
municipal  socialism,  and  the  paper  which  had 
fun  with  him  gleefully  congratulated  the  dan 
gerous  classes  on  the  accession  of  the  Honor 
able  Jacob  to  their  ranks. 

Stoller  read  the  articles,  one  after  another, 
with  parted  lips  and  gathering  drops  of  per 
spiration  on  his  upper  lip,  while  Burnamy 
waited  on  foot.  He  flung  the  papers  all  down 
at  last.  "  Why,  they're  a  pack  of  fools  !  They 
don't  know  what  they're  talking  about !  I 
want  city  government  carried  on  on  business 
principles,  by  the  people,  for  the  people.  / 
don't  care  what  they  say  !  I  know  I'm  right, 
and  I'm  going  ahead  on  this  line  if  it  takes 
all —  The  note  of  defiance  died  out  of  his 
voice  at  the  sight  of  Burnamy's  pale  face. 
"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?" 

"There's  nothing  the  matter  with  me." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  it  is  " — he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  use  the  word — "  what  they 
say  ?" 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Burnamy,  with  a  dry  mouth, 
"  it's  what  you  may  call  municipal  socialism." 

Stoller  jumped  from  his  seat.  "And  you 
knew  it  when  you  let  me  do  it  ?" 

"I  supposed  you  knew  what  you  were  about." 

"It's  a  lie!"     Stoller   advanced  upon   him, 
wildly,  and  Burnamy  took  a  step  backward. 
378 


"  Look  out  !".shouted  Burnamy.  "  You  never 
asked  me  anything  about  it.  You  told  me  what 
you  wanted  done,  and  I  did  it.  How  could  I 
believe  you  were  such  an  ignoramus  as  not  to 
know  the  a  b  c  of  the  thing  you  were  talking 
about?"  He  added,  in  cynical  contempt  :  "  But 
you  needn't  worry.  You  can  make  it  right  with 
the  managers  by  spending  a  little  more  money 
than  you  expected  to  spend." 

Stoller  started  as  if  the  word  money  re 
minded  him  of  something.  "  I  can  take  care 
of  myself,  young  man.  How  much  do  I  owe 
you  ?" 

"  Nothing  !"  said  Burnamy,  with  an  effort 
for  grandeur  which  failed  him. 

The  next  morning  as  the  Marches  sat  over 
their  coffee  at  the  Posthof,  he  came  dragging 
himself  toward  them  with  such  a  haggard  air 
that  Mrs.  March  called,  before  he  reached  their 
table,  "  Why,  Mr.  Burnamy,  what's  the  mat 
ter  ?" 

He  smiled  miserably.  "  Oh,  I  haven't  slept 
very  well.  May  I  have  my  coffee  with  you  ? 
I  want  to  tell  you  something  ;  I  want  you  to 
make  me.  But  I  can't  speak  till  the  coffee 
comes.  Fraulein  !"  he  besought  a  waitress  go 
ing  off  with  a  tray  near  them.  "  Tell  Lili, 
please,  to  bring  me  some  coffee — only  coffee." 

He  tried  to  make  some  talk  about  the 
weather,  which  was  rainy,  and  the  Marches 
381 


helped  him,  but  the  poor  endeavor  lagged 
wretchedly  in  the  interval  between  the  order 
ing  and  the  coming  of  the  coffee.  "  Ah,  thank 
you,  Lili,"  he  said,  with  a  humility  which  con 
firmed  Mrs.  March  in  her  instant  belief  that  he 
had  been  offering  himself  to  Miss  Triscoe  and 
been  rejected.  After  gulping  his  coffee,  he 
turned  to  her :  "  I  want  to  say  good-bye.  I'm 
going  away." 

"  From  Carlsbad  ?"  asked  Mrs.  March  with  a 
keen  distress. 

The  water  came  into  his  eyes.  "  Don't,  don't 
be  good  to  me,  Mrs.  March  !  I  can't  stand  it. 
But  you  won't,  when  you  know." 

He  began  to  speak  of  Stoller,  first  to  her, 
but  addressing  himself  more  and  more  to  the 
intelligence  of  March,  who  let  him  go  on  with 
out  question,  and  laid  a  restraining  hand  upon 
his  wife  when  he  saw  her  about  to  prompt  him. 
At  the  end,  "  That's  all,"  he  said,  huskily,  and 
then  he  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  March's  com 
ment.  He  made  none,  and  the  young  fellow 
was  forced  to  ask,  "  Well,  what  do  you  think, 
Mr.  March  ?" 

"What  do  you  think  yourself?" 

"  I  think  I  behaved  badly,"  said  Burnamy, 
and  a  movement  of  protest  from  Mrs.  March 
nerved  him  to  add  :  "  I  could  make  out  that  it 
was  not  my  business  to  tell  him  what  he  was 
doing  ;  but  I  guess  it  was  ;  I  guess  I  ought  to 
have  stopped  him,  or  given  him  a  chance  to 
382 


stop  himself.  I  suppose  I  might  have  done  it, 
if  he  had  treated  me  decently  when  I  turned 
up  a  day  late,  here ;  or  hadn't  acted  towards 
me  as  if  I  were  a  hand  in  his  buggy-works  that 
had  come  in  an  hour  after  the  whistle  had 
sounded." 

He  set  his  teeth,  and  an  indignant  sympathy 
shone  in  Mrs.  March's  eyes  ;  but  her  husband 
only  looked  the  more  serious. 

He  asked  gently,  "  Do  you  offer  that  fact  as 
an  explanation,  or  as  a  justification  ?" 

Burnamy  laughed  forlornly.  "It  certainly 
wouldn't  justify  me.  You  might  say  that  it 
made  the  case  all  the  worse  for  me."  March 
forbore  to  say,  and  Burnamy  went  on.  "  But 
I  didn't  suppose  they  would  be  onto  him  so 
quick,  or  perhaps  at  all.  I  thought  —  if  I 
thought  anything — that  it  would  amuse  some 
of  the  fellows  in  the  office,  who  know  about 
those  things."  He  paused,  and  in  March's 
continued  silence  he  went  on.  "  The  chance 
was  one  in  a  hundred  that  anybody  else  would 
know  where  he  had  brought  up." 

"  But  you  let  him  take  that  chance,"  March 
suggested. 

"  Yes,  I  let  him  take  it.  Oh,  you  know  how 
mixed  all  these  things  are  !" 

"Yes." 

"  Of  course  I  didn't  think  it  out  at  the  time. 
But  I  don't  deny  that  I  had  a  satisfaction  in 
the  notion  of  the  hornets'  nest  he  was  poking 
583 


his  thick  head  into.  It  makes  me  sick,  now,  to 
think  I  had.  I  oughtn't  to  have  let  him  ;  he 
was  perfectly  innocent  in  it.  After  the  letter 
went,  I  wanted  to  tell  him,  but  I  couldn't ;  and 
then  I  took  the  chances  too.  I  don't  believe 
he  could  have  ever  got  forward  in  politics  ;  he's 
too  honest — or  he  isn't  dishonest  in  the  right 
way.  But  that  doesn't  let  me  out.  I  don't  de 
fend  myself  !  I  did  wrong  ;  I  behaved  badly. 
But  I've  suffered  for  it.  I've  had  a  foreboding 
all  the  time  that  it  would  come  to  the  worst ; 
and  I've  felt  like  a  murderer  with  his  victim 
when  I've  been  alone  with  Stoller.  When  I 
could  get  away  from  him  I  could  shake  it  off, 
and  even  believe  that  it  hadn't  happened.  You 
can't  think  what  a  nightmare  it's  been  !  Well, 
I've  ruined  Stoller  politically,  but  I've  ruined 
myself,  too.  I've  spoiled  my  own  life ;  I've 
done  what  I  can  never  explain  to — to  the  peo 
ple  I  want  to  have  believe  in  me  ;  I've  got  to 
steal  away  like  the  thief  I  am.  Good-bye  !"  He 
jumped  to  his  feet,  and  put  out  his  hand  to 
March,  and  then  to  Mrs.  March. 

"  Why,  you're  not  going  away  now  /"  she 
cried,  in  a  daze. 

"Yes,  I  am.  I  shall  leave  Carlsbad  on  the 
eleven-o'clock  train.  I  don't  think  I  shall  see 
you  again."  He  clung  to  her  hand.  "  If  you 
see — General  Triscoe — I  wish  you'd  tell  them 
I  couldn't  —  that  I  had  to  —  that  I  was  called 
away  suddenly —  Good-bye  !"  He  pressed  her 
384 


hand  and  dropped  it,  and  mixed  with  the 
crowd.  Then  he  came  suddenly  back,  with  a 
final  appeal  to  March  :  "  Should  you — do  you 
think  I  ought  to  see  Stoller,  and — and  tell  him 
I  don't  think  I  used  him  fairly  ?" 

"  You  ought  to  know — "  March  began. 

But  before  he  could  say  more,  Burnamy 
said,  "  You're  right,"  and  was  off  again. 

"  Oh,  how  hard  you  were  with  him,  my  dear  !" 
Mrs.  March  lamented. 

"I  wish,"  he  said,  "if  our  boy  ever  went 
wrong  that  some  one  would  be  as  true  to  him 
as  I  was  to  that  poor  fellow.  He  condemned 
himself ;  and  he  was  right ;  he  has  behaved 
very  badly." 

"  You  always  overdo  things  so,  when  you  act 
righteously  !" 

"  Now,  Isabel  !" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know  what  you  will  say.  But  7 
should  have  tempered  justice  with  mercy." 

Her  nerves  tingled  with  pity  for  Burnamy, 
but  in  her  heart  she  was  glad  that  her  husband 
had  had  strength  to  side  with  him  against  him 
self,  and  she  was  proud  of  the  forbearance  with 
which  he  had  done  it.  In  their  earlier  married 
life  she  would  have  confidently  taken  the  in 
itiative  on  all  moral  questions.  She  still  be 
lieved  that  she  was  better  fitted  for  their  de 
cision  by  her  Puritan  tradition  and  her  New 
England  birth,  but  once  in  a  great  crisis  when 
it  seemed  a  question  of  their  living,  she  had 
2B  385 


weakened  before  it,  and  he,  with  no  such  ad 
vantages,  had  somehow  met  the  issue  with 
courage  and  conscience.  She  could  not  be 
lieve  that  he  did  so  by  inspiration,  but  she 
had  since  let  him  take  the  brunt  of  all  such 
issues  and  the  responsibility.  He  made  no 
reply,  and  she  said  :  "  I  suppose  you'll  admit 
now  that  there  was  always  something  peculiar 
in  the  poor  boy's  manner  toward  Stoller." 

He  would  confess  no  more  than  that  there 
ought  to  have  been.  "  I  don't  see  how  he  could 
stagger  through  with  that  load  on  his  con 
science.  I'm  not  sure  I  like  his  being  able  to 
do  it." 

She  was  silent  in  the  misgiving  which  she 
shared  with  him,  but  she  said  :  "  I  wonder  how 
far  it  has  gone  with  him  and  Miss  Triscoe  ?" 

"  Well,  from  his  wanting  you  to  give  his 
message  to  the  general  in  the  plural — 

"  Don't  laugh  !  It's  wicked  to  laugh  !  It's 
heartless  !"  she  cried,  hysterically.  "  What  will 
he  do,  poor  fellow  ?" 

"  I've  an  idea  that  he  will  light  on  his  feet, 
somehow.  But,  at  any  rate,  he's  doing  the 
right  thing  in  going  to  own  up  to  Stoller." 

"  Oh,  Stoller  !  I  care  nothing  for  Stoller  ! 
Don't  speak  to  me  of  Stoller  !" 

Burnamy  found  the  Bird  of  Prey,  as  he  no 

longer  had  the  heart  to  call  him,  walking  up 

and  down  in  his  room  like  an  eagle  caught  in 

a  trap.     He  erected  his  crest   with   sufficient 

386 


fierceness,  though,  when  the  young  fellow  came 
in  at  his  loudly  shouted,  "  Herein  /" 

"  What  do  you  want  ?"  he  demanded,  brutally. 

This  simplified  Burnamy's  task,  while  it  made 
it  more  loathsome.  He  answered  not  much  less 
brutally,  "  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  think  I 
used  you  badly,  that  I  let  you  betray  your 
self,  that  I  feel  myself  to  blame."  He  could 
have  added,  "  Curse  you  !"  without  change  of 
tone. 

Stoller  sneered  in  a  derision  that  showed  his 
lower  teeth  like  a  dog's  when  he  snarls.  "  You 
want  to  get  back  !" 

"  No,"  said  Burnamy,  mildly,  and  with  in 
creasing  sadness  as  he  spoke.  "  I  don't  want 
to  get  back.  Nothing  would  induce  me.  I'm 
going  away  on  the  first  train." 

"  Well,  you're  not  /"  shouted  Stoller.  "  You've 
lied  me  into  this — " 

"  Look  out  !"     Burnamy  turned  white. 

"  Didn't  you  lie  me  into  it,  if  you  let  me  fool 
myself,  as  you  say  ?"  Stoller  pursued,  and  Bur 
namy  felt  himself  weaken  through  his  wrath. 
"  Well,  then,  you  got  to  lie  me  out  of  it.  I 
been  going  over  the  damn  thing,  all  night — 
and  you  can  do  it  for  me.  I  know  you  can  do 
it,"  he  broke  down,  in  a  plea  that  was  almost  a 
whimper.  "  Look  here  !  You  see  if  you  can't. 
I'll  make  it  all  right  with  you.  I'll  pay  you 
whatever  you  think  is  right  —  whatever  you 
say." 

387 


"  Oh  !"  said  Burnamy,  in  otherwise  unutter 
able  disgust. 

"You  kin"  Stoller  went  on,  breaking  down 
more  and  more  into  his  adopted  Hoosier,  in 
the  stress  of  his  anxiety.  "  I  know  you  kin, 
Mr.  Burnamy."  He  pushed  the  paper  con 
taining  his  letter  into  Burnamy's  hands,  and 
pointed  out  a  succession  of  marked  passages. 
"  There  !  And  here  !  And  this  place  !  Don't 
you  see  how  you  could  make  out  that  it  meant 
something  else,  or  was  just  ironical  ?"  He 
went  on  to  prove  how  the  text  might  be  given 
the  complexion  he  wished,  and  Burnamy  saw 
that  he  had  really  thought  it  not  impossibly 
out :  "  I  can't  put  it  in  writing  as  well  as  you  ; 
but  I've  done  all  the  work,  and  all  you've  got 
to  do  is  to  give  it  some  of  them  turns  of  yours. 
I'll  cable  the  fellows  in  our  office  to  say  I've 
been  misrepresented,  and  that  my  correction 
is  coming.  We'll  get  it  into  shape  here  to 
gether,  and  then  I'll  cable  that.  I  don't  care 
for  the  money.  And  I'll  get  our  counting- 
room  to  see  this  scoundrel  " — he  picked  up  the 
paper  that  had  had  fun  with  him — "and  fix 
him  all  right,  so  that  he'll  ask  for  a  suspension 
of  public  opinion,  and —  You  see,  don't  you  ?" 

The  thing  did  appeal  to  Burnamy.  If  it 
could  be  done,  it  would  enable  him  to  make 
Stoller  the  reparation  he  longed  to  make  him 
more  than  anything  else  in  the  world.  But  he 
heard  himself  saying,  very  gently,  almost  ten- 
388 


derly,  "  It  might  be  done,  Mr.  Stoller.  But  / 
couldn't  do  it.  It  wouldn't  be  honest  —  for 
me." 

"  Yah  !"  yelled  Stoller,  and  he  crushed  the 
paper  into  a  wad  and  flung  it  into  Burnamy's 
face.  "  Honest,  you  damn  humbug  !  You  let 
me  in  for  this,  when  you  knew  I  didn't  mean 
it,  and  now  you  won't  help  me  out  because  it 
a'n't  honest!  Get  out  of  my  room,  and  get 
out  quick  before  I— 

He  hurled  himself  towards  Burnamy,  who 
straightened  himself,  with  "  If  you  dare  !"  He 
knew  that  he  was  right  in  refusing  ;  but  he 
knew  that  Stoller  was  right,  too,  and  that  he 
had  not  meant  the  logic  of  what  he  had  said 
in  his  letter,  and  of  what  Burnamy  had  let  him 
imply.  He  braved  Stoller's  onset,  and  he  left 
his  presence  untouched,  but  feeling  as  little 
like  a  moral  hero  as  he  well  could. 


XXXVII 


GENERAL  TRISCOE  woke  in  the  bad 
humor  of  an  elderly  man  after  a  day's 
pleasure,  and  in  the  self-reproach  of  a 
pessimist  who  has  lost  his  point  of  view  for  a 
time,  and  has  to  work  back  to  it.  He  began  at 
the  belated  breakfast  with  his  daughter  when 
she  said,  after  kissing  him  gayly,  in  the  small 
two  -  seated  bower  where  they  breakfasted  at 
their  hotel  when  they  did  not  go  to  the  Posthof, 
"  Didn't  you  have  a  nice  time,  yesterday,  papa?" 

She  sank  into  the  chair  opposite,  and  beamed 
at  him  across  the  little  iron  table,  as  she  lifted 
the  pot  to  pour  out  his  coffee. 

"What  do  you  call  a  nice  time?"  he  tempor 
ized,  not  quite  able  to  resist  her  gayety. 

"Well,  the  kind  of  time  /had." 

"  Did  you  get  rheumatism  from  sitting  on 
the  grass  ?  I  took  cold  in  that  old  church, 
and  the  tea  at  that  restaurant  must  have  been 
390 


DIDN'T  YOU  HAVE  A  NICE  TIME  YESTERDAY,  I-AI-A  ?' 


brewed  in  a  brass  kettle.     I  suffered  all  night 
from  it.     And  that  ass  from  Illinois — " 

"  Oh,  poor  papa  !  I  couldn't  go  with  Mr. 
Stoller  alone,  but  I  might  have  gone  in  the 
two -spanner  with  him  and  let  you  have  Mr. 
or  Mrs.  March  in  the  one-spanner.  They're  so 
nice  !" 

"  I  don't  know.  Their  interest  in  each  other 
isn't  so  interesting  to  other  people  as  they  seem 
to  think." 

"Do  you  feel  that  way  really,  papa?  Don't 
you  like  their  being  so  much  in  love  still?" 

"  At  their  time  of  life  ?  Thank  you  ;  it's  bad 
enough  in  young  people." 

The  girl  did  not  answer  ;  she  appeared  alto 
gether  occupied  in  pouring  out  her  father's 
coffee. 

He  tasted  it,  and  then  he  drank  pretty  well 
all  of  it ;  but  he  said,  as  he  put  his  cup  down, 
"  /  don't  know  what  they  make  this  stuff  of.  I 
wish  I  had  a  cup  of  good,  honest  American 
coffee." 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  like  American  food!" 
said  his  daughter,  with  so  much  conciliation 
that  he  looked  up  sharply. 

But  whatever  he  might  have  been  going  to 
say  was  at  least  postponed  by  the  approach  of 
a  serving  -  maid,  who  brought  a  note  to  his 
daughter.  She  blushed  a  little  at  sight  of  it, 
and  then  tore  it  open  and  read  :  "  I  am  going 
away  from  Carlsbad,  for  a  fault  of  my  own 
393 


which  forbids  me  to  look  you  in  the  face.  If 
you  wish  to  know  the  worst  of  me,  ask  Mrs. 
March.  I  have  no  heart  to  tell  you." 

Agatha  read  these  mystifying  words  of  Bur- 
namy's  several  times  over  in  a  silent  absorp 
tion  with  them  which  left  her  father  to  look 
after  himself,  and  he  had  poured  out  a  second 
cup  of  coffee  with  his  own  hand,  and  was  reach 
ing  for  the  bread  beside  her  before  she  came 
slowly  back  to  a  sense  of  his  presence.  "  Oh, 
excuse  me,  papa,"  she  said,  and  she  gave  him 
the  butter.  "  Here's  a  very  strange  letter  from 
Mr.  Burnamy,  which  I  think  you'd  better  see." 
She  held  the  note  across  the  table  to  him,  and 
watched  his  face  as  he  read  it. 

After  he  had  read  it  twice,  he  turned  the 
sheet  over,  as  people  do  with  letters  that  puz 
zle  them,  in  the  vain  hope  of  something  ex 
planatory  on  the  back.  Then  he  looked  up 
and  asked :  "  What  do  you  suppose  he's  been 
doing?" 

"  I  don't  believe  he's  been  doing  anything. 
It's  something  that  Mr.  Stoller's  been  doing  to 
him." 

"I  shouldn't  infer  that  from  his  own  words. 
What  makes  you  think  the  trouble  is  with 
Stoller  ?" 

"He  said  —  he  said  yesterday  —  something 
about  being  glad  to  be  through  with  him,  be 
cause  he  disliked  him  so  much  he  was  always 
afraid  of  wronging  him.  And  that  proves  that 
394 


now  Mr.  Stoller  has  made  him  believe  that 
he's  done  wrong,  and  has  worked  upon  him 
till  he  does  believe  it." 

"  It  proves  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  the 
general,  recurring  to  the  note.  After  reading 
it  again,  he  looked  keenly  at  her  :  "  Am  I  to 
understand  that  you  have  given  him  the  right 
to  suppose  you  would  want  to  know  the  worst 
— or  the  best  of  him?" 

The  girl's  eyes  fell,  and  she  pushed  her  knife 
against  her  plate.  She  began  :  "  No — 

"Then  confound  his  impudence!"  the  gen 
eral  broke  out.  "  What  business  has  he  to 
write  to  you  at  all  about  this  ?" 

"  Because  he  couldn't  go  away  without  it !" 
she  retorted ;  and  she  met  her  father's  eye 
courageously.  "  He  had  a  right  to  think  we 
were  his  friends ;  and  if  he  has  done  wrong,  or 
is  in  disgrace  any  way,  isn't  it  manly  of  him  to 
wish  to  tell  us  first  himself?" 

Her  father  could  not  say  that  it  was  not. 
But  he  could  and  did  say,  very  sceptically  : 
"  Stuff  !  Now,  see  here,  Agatha  :  what  are 
you  going  to  do  ?" 

"  I'm  going  to  see  Mrs.  March,  and  then — " 

"You  mustn't  do  anything  of  the  kind,  my 
dear,"  said  her  father,  gently.  "  You've  no 
right  to  give  yourself  away  to  that  romantic 
old  goose."  He  put  up  his  hand  to  interrupt 
her  protest.  "  This  thing  has  got  to  be  gone 
to  the  bottom  of.  But  you're  not  to  do  it.  I 
395 


will  see  March  myself.  We  must  consider 
your  dignity  in  this  matter — and  mine.  And 
you  may  as  well  understand  that  I'm  not  go 
ing  to  have  any  nonsense.  It's  got  to  be  man 
aged  so  that  it  can't  be  supposed  we're  anxious 
about  it,  one  way  or  the  other,  or  that  he  was 
authorized  to  write  to  you  in  this  way — " 

"  No,  no  !  He  oughn't  to  have  done  so.  He 
was  to  blame —  He  couldn't  have  written  to 
you,  though,  papa  !" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  why.  But  that's  no 
reason  why  we  should  let  it  be  understood 
that  he  has  written  to  you.  I  will  see  March  ; 
and  I  will  manage  to  see  his  wife,  too.  I  shall 
probably  find  them  in  the  reading-room  at 
Pupp's,  and — 

The  Marches  were  in  fact  just  coming  in 
from  their  breakfast  at  the  Posthof,  and  he 
met  them  at  the  door  of  Pupp's,  where  they 
all  sat  down  on  one  of  the  iron  settees  of  the 
piazza,  and  began  to  ask  one  another  questions 
of  their  minds  about  the  pleasures  of  the  day 
before,  and  to  beat  about  the  bush  where  Bur- 
namy  lurked  in  their  common  consciousness. 

Mrs.  March  was  not  able  to  keep  long  from 
starting  him.  "You  knew."  she  said,  "that  Mr. 
Burnamy  had  left  us  ?" 

"  Left !     Why  ?"  asked  the  general. 

She  was  a  woman  of  resource,  but  in  a  case 
like  this  she  found  it  best  to  trust  her  hus 
band's  poverty  of  invention.  She  looked  at 
396 


STEPHANIE    VVARTE 


him,  and  he  answered  for  her  with  a  prompt 
ness  that  made  her  quake  at  first,  but  finally 
seemed  the  only  thing,  if  not  the  best  thing  : 
"  He's  had  some  trouble  with  Stoller."  He 
went  on  to  tell  the  general  just  what  the 
trouble  was. 

At  the  end  the  general  grunted  as  from  an 
uncertain  mind.  "You  think  he's  behaved 
badly." 

"  I  think  he's  behaved  foolishly — youthfully. 
But  I  can  understand  how  strongly  he  was 
tempted.  He  could  say  that  he  was  not  au 
thorized  to  stop  Stoller  in  his  mad  career." 

At  this  Mrs.  March  put  her  hand  through 
her  husband's  arm. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  about  that,"  said  the  gen 
eral. 

March  added  :  "  Since  I  saw  him  this  morn 
ing,  I've  heard  something  that  disposes  me  to 
look  at  his  performance  in  a  friendlier  light. 
It  is  something  that  Stoller  told  me  himself, 
to  heighten  my  sense  of  Burnamy's  wicked 
ness.  He  seems  to  have  felt  that  I  ought  to 
know  what  a  serpent  I  was  cherishing  in  my 
bosom,"  and  he  gave  Triscoe  the  facts  of  Bur 
namy's  injurious  refusal  to  help  Stoller  put  a 
false  complexion  on  the  opinions  he  had  al 
lowed  him  ignorantly  to  express. 

The  general  grunted  again.  "  Of  course  he 
had  to  refuse,  and  he  has  behaved  like  a  gen 
tleman  so  far.  But  that  doesn't  justify  him 
399 


in  having  lei  Stoller  get  himself  into  the 
scrape." 

"  No,"  said  March.  "It's  a  tough  nut  for 
the  casuist  to  try  his  tooth  on.  And  I  must 
say  I  feel  sorry  for  Stoller." 

Mrs.  March  plucked  her  hand  from  his  arm. 
"  I  don't,  one  bit.  He  was  thoroughly  selfish 
from  first  to  last.  He  has  got  just  what  he 
deserved." 

"Ah,  very  likely,"  said  her  husband.  "The 
question  is  about  Burnamy's  part  in  giving 
him  his  deserts  ;  he  had  to  leave  him  to  them, 
of  course." 

The  general  fixed  her  with  the  impenetrable 
glitter  of  his  eye-glasses,  and  left  the  subject 
as  of  no  concern  to  him.  "  I  believe,"  he  said, 
rising,  "  I'll  have  a  look  at  some  of  your  pa 
pers,"  and  he  went  into  the  reading-room. 

"  Now,"  said  Mrs.  March,  "  he  will  go  home 
and  poison  that  poor  girl's  mind.  And  you 
will  have  yourself  to  thank  for  prejudicing 
him  against  Burnamy." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  do  it  yourself,  my 
dear  ?"  he  teased  ;  but  he  was  really  too  sorry 
for  the  whole  affair,  which  he  nevertheless 
enjoyed  as  an  ethical  problem. 

The  general  looked  so  little  at  the  papers 
that  before  March  went  off  for  his  morning 
walk  he  saw  him  come  out  of  the  reading-room 
and  take  his  way  down  the  Alte  Wiese.  He 
went  directly  back  to  his  daughter,  and  re- 
400 


ported  Burnamy's  behavior  with  entire  exact 
ness.  He  dwelt  upon  his  making  the  best  of 
a  bad  business  in  refusing  to  help  Stoller  out 
of  it,  dishonorably  and  mendaciously  ;  but  he 
did  not  conceal  that  it  was  a  bad  business. 

"  Now,  you  know  all  about  it,"  he  said  at  the 
end,  "and  I  leave  the  whole  thing  to  you.  If 
you  prefer,  you  can  see  Mrs.  March.  I  don't 
know  but  I'd  rather  you'd  satisfy  yourself— 

"  I  will  not  see  Mrs.  March.  Do  you  think  I 
would  go  back  of  you  in  that  way  ?  I  am  sat 
isfied  now." 


END    OF  VOL.  I. 


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